


La Belle et Sa Bête

by pyuupyuu



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Flirting, Basically an AU with princess shenanigans childhood promises and vaguely-magical duties, Because they're a mess and I love them, Coming of Age, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Mages and Kwamis and Magic oh my!!!, There may be some angst but there's even more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyuupyuu/pseuds/pyuupyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Marinette of the Dupain Court never thought she'd love anyone the way she did Adrien Agreste, her childhood crush and companion. But before she could have a say in it, Adrien was ripped away from her, and she was betrothed to a prince from a neighboring kingdom— Prince Chat Noir. Now she was <i>trying</i> to accept Chat as her fiancé, but it was a lot harder than it seemed— especially when he was insistent on withholding a few secrets of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. amour d'enfance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makototachibana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makototachibana/gifts).



> Hello everybody! Thank you for checking my fic out. This is an alternate universe where our two heroes Adrien and Marinette are a prince and a princess, respectively. Most of their interactions are between Marinette and Chat Noir, which you'll find out why pretty quickly... ha...
> 
> For a little background on the setting, I imagine the fic taking place during 18th century France, but with a twist: rather than there ever being an absolute monarchy, tiny kingdoms with their own monarchies within have sprung up. So, yeah... it's best to picture them as imaginary kingdoms, but with technology from the early 1700s!
> 
> This fic will update weekly with about 4000 words per chapter :) Anyways— enjoy!

"Princess Marinette, your bath has been drawn."

Marinette started, but concealed it gracefully; years of masking her emotions in court led to her more-or-less mastery over disguising her thoughts. "Ah, thank you. You're dismissed."

The man wearing the Dupain Court emblem on his chest left with a curt bow, leaving Marinette alone with only her thoughts. That, and the stone memorial she had quickly scrambled to cover up. No one could discover her beloved secret— not even members of her own court.

"Marinette?" Someone called, and the princess sighed in relief as she realized it was only Alya searching for her in the gardens. "I thought I'd find you here."

Princess Marinette looked away bashfully, no longer making an effort to hide. "It's the sixth anniversary," she scoffed. "Of course I'd be here."

"That's not a bad thing," Alya said lightly. "It's just... You know you have your obligations today, Mari... I'd hate for you to be too caught up in things to see the future."

Marinette bit her tongue out of habit, holding back the few choice words she'd like to tell Alya right now— and everyone else that told her that. _What do they know?_ She demanded impishly to herself, as she covered back up her childhood friend, Adrien's, tiny memorial. From the outside, no one could see the inscription— not unless they stood directly on top of it, and fancied themselves getting caught in the rose bushes Marinette had surrounded it with.

But to her, the writing _RIP Adrien Agreste_ was as clear as day.

"Alya, it's fine, I've had a bath drawn and everything—"

"But you're still a mess," her lady-in-waiting insisted, tugging the knots out of the princess's hair vehemently. She shoot the dirt out of Marinette's dress while the other grumbled all the way through the palace gardens.

"Really, Marinette. What would the court guests say if they saw you covered in dirt?"

"They're not here yet," Mari replied petulantly, even though she knew that some had, in fact, arrived. Merchants, knights, lords and ladies of the lands— even Lady Chloé of the Noir Kingdom and her handmaid, Sabrina, were waiting in the central hall and dining areas. Those of the lower classes had arrived early out of respect. But the _main event_ wouldn't arrive until at dusk, when the symbolic handing off ceremony would commence.

For exactly one month ago, Princess Marinette of the Dupain Court turned 16, and she was of age to be wed off, as promised, to the prince of the Noir Kingdom. Not that she knew anything about him, of course, except that he was two years her senior and went by the name Chat Noir. _Black Cat_. She rolled her eyes, forcing back a scowl at his strange and clearly fake moniker.

Of course she'd be handed-off to her betrothed on the anniversary of her one true love's death. _Of course._ The fates seemed to hate her.

Alya was babbling mindlessly as Marionette largely ignored her, focused as she was at appearing welcoming to her guests as she passed them on the way to her bedchambers.

Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she was finally free of prying eyes. She took the long way to her room, choosing instead to cut through the servants' quarters and kitchen to take the winding, rickety staircase, leading up to a secret passageway. It was through this passage and a series of service bells that the help could quickly serve their masters without disturbance. The whole affair was ridiculous— Alya told her so, as Marinette caught her dress on an upturned nail. But Marinette didn't care. She _refused_ to meet anyone, lest she be forced to make small talk. Not today.

Her bedchambers were as spacious and regal as one would expect a princess's quarters. Wall-to-wall French windows lay adjacent to her lavish four-postered bed, the silky white drapings embroidered in gold that matched the curtains. Windowseats and low bookshelves lined the footspace in front of the windows. In one corner were dresses and mannequins— the area where she did her work. The other side of her room had three doors: one to her washroom, one to her walk-in closet, and one to her outdoor patio, where she painted and gardened on sunny days. On not-so-nice days, she liked to read, or work on her fashion designs. Her dresses were the rave of the kingdom, after all. Little did anyone know that she made them all herself.

She peeled herself from the dress she had made for tonight (she may be miserable, but she was going to look _good_ ) and went into the washroom, where a servant had dutifully filled her tub with hot water. Marinette was happy to strip off her dress and soak in the water, feeling all the dirt and grime peel off her skin. Alya combed through her hair (properly, this time) and cleansed it with fresh water, rubbing flowery perfumes and oils into her ends.

By the time she had finished up with a hard scrub, her skin was pink with irritation but smooth, and smelled faintly of flowers and summer grass.

Sometime after that, Alya disappeared to clean herself up, too, leaving Marinette alone with nothing to do but stare at her reflection. Having nothing better planned, she decided to flip through the letter she'd gotten a few months ago— the first of many, frankly. Chat Noir was... persistent.

_My princess,_

_I cannot wait to see you soon. The people of my court cannot stop gossiping about how beautiful and sweet you are— and honestly, it's driving me mad. I've not properly seen you, even though you're betrothed to me. Oh, the misery I've had to endure! I need to put a face to my love._

Marinette's face flushed for what felt like the thousandth time. "God, he's so cheesy," she groaned aloud, almost too embarrassed to continue. Her chest felt weird and fluttery, like a butterfly had gotten caught up in it. It made her anxious. She didn't want to believe that this— this _Chat_ — was her fiancé, whether she liked it or not.

The rest of the letter was just more mushy sentiments and requests for a speedy response (though admittedly, Marinette never sent him back anything). All typical of him, until the end:

_Princess, I hope that, despite the uncomfortable arrangement... ~~Please love~~ I hope that you will grow to like me. I want our union to be fruitful for many years to come._

_Much adoration,_  
_Chat_

"Marinette! What are you doing, sitting around reading letters like that?! You have to be ready in less than an hour from now!" Marinette's mother, Sabine Cheng, cried. "Goodness gracious... where's Alya to yell at you?"

"Getting ready herself," Marinette replied, rising to her feet and shoving the letters back under a pillow on her window seat. "Don't worry, Mom! My dress is all ready. I just need to do my makeup and hair."

Queen Sabine noticeably relaxed, though her eyes still swam with anxiety. "Mari, darling, please... Please don't be difficult. I know tonight is hard. But I promise you, it gets easier."

"I know, I know. You eventually fell in love with dad."

"Not only that, but—"

"It's for the good of the kingdom," Marinette finished, having heard it all before.

Queen Sabine's face was a mix of emotions— her pride and happiness for her daughter was threatened by tears, glimmering in the corners of her eyes. She rushed forward to hug her daughter instead. "I forget. You're all grown up now. You're a proper lady, yet I talk to you like you're a little girl."

"I'm still little," Marinette protested, making her mother laugh.

"Yes, and you'll be that way to me forever and always, my dear. Now come on. Let me do your makeup and hair."

True to her word, the Queen sent away the servants and applied her daughter's makeup herself. She lightly dusted Marinette's cheekbones with rouge, before shading in her eyelids with a dark color, making her eyes bluer than ever. Her lips were moisturized and shimmered with a simple gloss— a sweet and flirtatious contrast to her mature eye makeup.

"You're too youthful for lipstick," her mother insisted, and Marinette didn't argue. By contrast to her extensive knowledge about fashion, she honestly didn't know much about makeup, and usually let her mother and Alya handle these things...

Her hair was pinned up into a tight bun at the top of her head, though her bangs were allowed free, along with a few curled pieces at her front. Finally, a plain silver circlet rested on her head; it had the family crest in the middle, coupled with a pearl on both sides.

"Thank you, mother," Marinette said softly. "I look nice."

"You look _beautiful_ ," Sabine corrected, kissing Marinette on her temple. "Now hurry and change into your dress. I've got to find your father before this event, so I trust you to be okay?"

"Yes, Mom—"

"Oh! And I forgot to mention. The ball's themed as a masquerade, honoring their kingdom's... familiars. Don't forget the mask I've left you by the door."

Marinette nodded and repeated more reassurances, though she was a little sad to see her mother go. Queen Sabine was a calming presence. While Marinette was used to having servants help her into her dresses, it would've been special if her mom did on this night.

But her mood quickly lifted when she saw Alya waiting for her on her bed. Her hair was all loose curls, some gently pulled back by a blue hairpiece, one that matched the baby blue gown Marinette made for her. The intricate lace lining her bosom and down her sides made the otherwise plain dress pop, and Marinette's chest swelled with happiness at how well her friend filled out the dress.

"You like what you see?" Alya teased, fanning herself with her elbow-length gloved hands. "I'm flattered, but I must reject you now. I'm already engaged to be wed ~"

"Shut up Alya, and help me get this dress on." Alya laughed, but did as asked. She tightened Marinette's underpinnings and spun her around, leaving just enough room for her friend to breathe.

Meanwhile, Marinette stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked... foreign. Older.  _I don't know this girl,_ she thought, melancholy. _Who is she? She's smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes._

She wondered if she'd still be smiling and spinning around like a child in 24 hours.

 

* * *

 

"Are you ready, Ladybug?" Alya asked, a faint smile gracing her lips.

"You haven't called me that in _years_ ," Marinette said, surprised to hear her old childhood nickname. Adrien used to call her that because of how lucky she was. He'd always say _"you're my lucky charm, Ladybug! I'll keep you safe, 'kay?"_ The name made her nostalgic, now.

"You've got this," Alya said, while squeezing her hand. Marinette smiled. _I believe you. Adrien promised to keep me safe— he's looking out for me tonight, I'm sure._

Marinette took one last look at herself in the mirrors in the upstairs hall. Her crimson ballgown was strapless and tight to her form, the material curling around her waist into a rose at her hip, before spilling out into a loose, bulb-shaped bottom. Black lace embroidered her gown and patterned it with more roses around her hip, down her side, and around the bottom of her dress, each with a little pearl dotting the middle. She'd spent many weeks working on this one. Now, if only she could pretend that they were all here to see her dress, and not to see her get hitched to a foreign land...

But then the doors opened, and all thoughts were cleared from her mind.

At first, when Marinette descended the alabaster staircase, she couldn't focus on anything. Hundreds of people stared at her, and she couldn't focus on anyone in particular. But then she zeroed on someone— whose bright, green eyes held her gaze, and seemed to dig right into her soul. The degree rose tenfold in the room.

She then realized she probably noticed him because he was walking towards her, and people were parting to make a path for him.

She was surprised to see him wearing a black mask. He looked like a cat, which she told him so,  
dumbly, followed by: "Why?"

"It's a masquerade, my princess— didn't you hear?"

"W-what," she stuttered. It was only _then_ that she realized everyone except her were wearing masks. Her mother's warning about the theme came back to haunt her. "Since WHEN?"

"Since... a while," he finished lamely, laughing off his embarrassment. "It's alright. I actually have a mask for you."

He held out a red mask with black dots. "A ladybug mask for my lucky charm," he finished, holding it up to her face as if asking for permission. She nodded numbly, and he put it on her; the court music started up again, and people resumed talking, no longer staring at her. Yet still, she felt as if she was on fire. _This can't be happening._ She looked up at him nervously. _Who is he? How does he know about my nickname?_

"Should I know you?" Marinette snapped. She didn't like him— not one bit. He put her on edge, yet every time he came close something in her chest stirred, like bubbles rising to the top of a glass of champagne.

"Oh, I'm hurt," he cried— though his cheshire grin made her think otherwise. "Perhaps you would, if you'd have answered my letters."

" _Chat?_ "

"Marinette?" He parroted, and Marinette swore that she had never met anyone more annoying in her life. But then his face morphed into a genuine smile. "Do me the honor of dancing the first dance with me, princess."

She couldn't refuse. He was her fiancé, after all, and dancing the first dance with him was customary. She didn't know why he bothered asking. "Alright, kitty. Show me your moves."

As he guided her to the middle of the dance floor, she couldn't help but feel spiteful. He had completely shattered her facade of _sweet, kind princess_ in 5 seconds flat. Now here she was, teasing him, as if she'd known him all her life. He irritated her so much, him and that smug grin.

She suddenly found herself wishing they were alone.

The music stopped and started again, and she felt everyone's eyes on her once more. Chat had swept her up into his arms gracefully, and she followed his lead, many years of dance lessons allowing her to mindlessly swing to the music. Chat was unexpectedly good at dancing— he responded directly to her, leading her comfortably and whispering commands in her ear when he was going to do something new, or unexpected. She felt herself smiling at the awed look he gave her as he lifted her in the air momentarily, spinning her in a way that left her feeling like she was flying. The crowd cheered, and she felt herself cheering on the inside, too.

"You're ridiculous," she whispered back, in between a twirl and a dip that left her inches from the floor.

His eyes sparkled mischievously. "You asked for me to show you my moves, did you not?"

"Yes. No. Well, I suppose," she finished, feeling herself flush at his grin. "I was making small talk."

"Small talk," he repeated. "Small talk is asking about the weather, and reserved for people you don't like. It's not asking your very lovely and handsome fiancé to dance with you."

"Firstly, I never said I didn't dislike you. Secondly, I very clearly recall you asking me to dance, and not the other way around!"

"I don't think you dislike me," he mused, pulling her tighter to his chest as he stepped closer and then back, spinning her as he held her hand. The crowd's sound of excitement faded like white noise in comparison to his voice, teasing, lilting. "I think you like me very much."

"That makes me want to dislike you," Marinette replied. Momentarily, she saw his face flicker— self-doubt dulled his eyes, and make his lips curve downwards. But then his eyes narrowed, cat-like, and his predatory smile was back.

"But how can you dislike such a charming feline? I've been nothing but pleasant to you, haven't I?"

"I suppose," she admitted, grudgingly. "I suppose you could be worse."

Chat opened his mouth to respond, but the music drew to a close. Before they knew it, the first dance was over. The crowd cheered happily for the couple, as the two were obviously the stars of the night.

"How happy I am for this wonderful union," a booming voice proclaimed, which she recognized as her father's. An amused clamor rippled throughout the room as the guests quickly agreed. She felt Chat suddenly freeze in her grip, however; Marinette was concerned. She followed his gaze towards a tall, commanding man— one with salt-and-pepper hair brushed back with dignity, and expensive lapels pinned to his chest. He was talking to her father.

"Yes. I, too, am pleased with this peace treaty." Her father laughed again, resting his large grip on the man's shoulder with camaraderie.

"Good, I'm glad. Now let us continue this dance so the two lovebirds can dance more, yes?"

A second song started as all the other couples stopped standing around and instead joined them on the floor.

Chat was more focused now, carefully leading her around the other couples. His hand rested firmly on her shoulder and on the small of her back, and she swore it burned a hole through her dress. Every look he sent her made sparks flutter in her stomach, and she started to worry something was wrong with her. How did someone so _irritating_ have such an effect on her?

But as electrified as he made her feel, she couldn't help but feel like Chat was unusually tense now. He was moving beside her with practiced care, yes— but his eyes were dulled compared to his former jovial look, and his moves were more systematic— planned.

Songs started blending into one another before Marinette realized they'd been dancing together for a while now. She was surprised to find that she had lost track of time. She was starting to get tired out, exhausting herself by over-analyzing her partner's every move. _Way to go, Marinette. You need to calm down..._

Incredibly, Chat seemed to have read her mind. "Is there someplace we can go to get a breath of fresh air?"

Marinette sighed in relief. "Of course. Follow me, kitty." She smiled as she took him up the stairwell, out onto a balcony on the second story— one of her favorite places to go. It had a beautiful view of the gardens in the moonlight. Thankfully, it wasn't cold. It was one of the wonderfully summery nights, where the breeze was light and the air comfortable, peaceful aside from the crickets chirping. She, almost reluctantly, dropped his hand when they leaned against the railing.

"It's beautiful. Your kingdom, that is," Chat clarified, upon seeing the confusion on her face. But truthfully, Marinette was more confused by his existence than his observation.

"Chat, answer me honestly."

His eyes narrowed seriously, but they twinkled with a playful amusement. "I always will, my lady."

"What... happened out there?" She asked vaguely, gesturing back out the doorway. "You— changed, halfway through."

Chat looked reluctant to answer. He rubbed the back of his head nervously, looking awfully distracted with looking at his surroundings all of a sudden. That was, all of them but Marinette. "Chat?"

"It's just— ah, what the hell. I'm going to have to trust you, right?"

Marinette frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

"Not many people know a lot about me. I'm not used to sharing, but..." He laughed. "I was looking at my father. That's why I seemed tense, I mean. He has... high expectations."

Marinette felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Though she hardly knew him, she could feel his pain and frustration at falling short of expectations. In the moonlight, he looked especially troubled— the lighting pulling dramatic shadows over his face, making half his face hidden in darkness. She wanted to reach out and smooth the worry lines between his eyebrows.

... Wait, no. What was she saying? Why did she want to touch him all of a sudden?

"I guess that's not very relateable for you, though, huh?" Chat said, bitterly. "Your family loves you."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't understand," she whispered, softly. Before she knew it, her hand rested on his cheek, comforting him. Chat looked up in surprise. "I'm not exactly a perfect princess."

Chat cupped her hand with his and Marinette suddenly realized the intimacy of the situation, blushing deeply. She moved to pull away, but Chat wouldn't let her, his hand on her hip holding firm. "Marinette," he breathed, and _oh Gods was he close oh God oh God_ — he exhaled, and Marinette could feel his breath on her cheek. He was so close. "Marinette, you're perfect to me."

She squeaked, stunned. That killed the mood. His broad grin from before was back, poking fun at the unexpected noise she just made. "S-stop it! Chat Noir, I swear, if you don't back off—"

"That's _Prince_ Chat Noir to you, missy," he teased, to which she responded by poking him between the eyes.

"You're too annoying to be a prince," she cried, though it was without any real bite.

"Probably."

 _"Chat!"_ Marinette groaned, feigning irritation— but by now, she was smiling.  _He makes me feel like a kid again._ Chat smiled, too.

"I'm pleased to have made your acquaintance, my lady."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tiny thing, but keep your eye out for how the characters refer to each other— especially in front of others. Alya never calls Marinette just "Mari" in public, but Princess Marinette instead, for example. So yeah I. I just really love court dynamics ;u; 
> 
> I'd imagine the next chapter will be up shortly— I already have it and another written, so expect it sooner than the typical weekly deadline!


	2. prairie d'été

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for continuing to read!
> 
> I'd like to take a moment to clear up some confusion. The title of this piece, _La Belle et Sa Bête,_ loosely translates to "the beauty and her beast" in French. However, this story isn't anything like The Beauty and the Beast movie, aside from the part about them both involving princes, princesses, and magic... ANYWAYS. I just wanted to make it clear that I picked the title because I thought it was fitting for this fic, and because I like allegories, NOT because it would follow the plotline of the Disney movie.
> 
> Enjoy chapter 2 <3

Marinette sighed tiredly, throwing herself down on her bed. It had been a long night. After talking on the balcony for a while, they’d returned and danced for several more hours, to the pleasure of everyone present. Midnight rolled around and her father gave a long-winded speech about _peace_ and _obligation_ and _future_ , before congratulating the man named King Gabriel once more. _Chat Noir's father_ , she realized. She better understood Chat's apprehension after hearing him speak. His cold-hearted congratulations to them made her feel almost worse, but Chat lit up, as if he wasn't used to the praise, no matter how off-hand it may be.  
  
All in all, the night hadn't been... terrible. Marinette even felt a tiny smile forming on her face when recalled the events— and Chat, who wasn't terrible, either. Despite her apprehension, she almost liked him. _He could be worse,_ she repeated. She closed her eyes and saw his green, green eyes, and felt something warm and bubbly rise in her chest. _He could be worse._  
  
. . . The next time Marinette opened her eyes, light was shining bright into her room. She squinted against the rays. "Agh!" She cried, shielding them from the sun. As she raised her hands, she felt something hard and metallic on her forehead, confusing her further.   _Huh?_  
  
She took it off and held the red and black mask in her hands, the memory of the night before rushing back to her. _Oh... right. I must've fallen asleep in my clothes..._  
  
"Marinette! Marinette, wake up! Prince Chat and Sir Nino are waiting for us in the gardens, remember?" Alya, Marinette’s lady-in-waiting and closest advisor, ran to her side, shaking her princess until not a bit of sleepiness remained in her.  
  
"I'm already awake, relax," Marinette protested, playfully shoving back at her friend. "Sorry. I think I overslept."  
  
"I think so, too," Alya teased, feigning anger; but true to her form, she'd brought some fruit and blueberry scones for Marinette to have for breakfast. "Hurry up and eat while I get you ready."  
  
"Yer thu besh, Alwah," Marinette gushed as she stuffed a scone into her mouth. With her free hand, she was (unsuccessfully) working to undo the back of her dress.  
  
Ten minutes of shenanigans and one brand new dress later, a refreshed Marinette was laughing down the staircase, Alya right behind her. "So, you know the plan?"  
  
"Nope," Marinette refuted, uncharacteristically without concern. "But it probably has something to do with me looking pretty and making the prince be happy with his engagement.”  
  
"Mari, don't be so crass. Also, come here. There are crumbs in your lace." Marinette sighed in defeat as Alya tugged her back away from the doors to the garden. But she supposed food on her dress was not very princess-like. Speaking of the dress, it was delightfully summery today, matching the weather: the white gown had short, puffy sleeves, and was ruffled and frilled with lace down to the hem, which she hiked up so didn't touch the ground. Light pink flowers were patterned all over the dress, but the effect was cute, not gaudy. Just the right amount of sweet for Marinette to pull off. She'd even worn her hair down to focus the attention on the silver circlet on her hairline; it completed the look.  
  
"Alright, girl. Let's stun them."  
  
Alya and Marinette traveled down a familiar stone path, as they would any other morning; but today, it was a little different than usual. Guests still milled about on the grounds, so every step Marinette took was carefully calculated. She had to stop herself several times from stopping to pull weeds or pick the sticks and leaves out from the birdbaths. Needless to say, it was hard for her to ignore a mess and not take care of it— high status and social class be damned.  
  
Finally, the two of them came to the edge of the gardens, where the path opened up into a clearing. The stone unfurled into dirt, with hoof prints marring the surface. Marinette warmly recognized it as the pathway to the royal stables.  
  
Yet before they could reach the horse stables, Marinette and Alya saw their party waiting for them on horseback. At the front sat Prince Chat, smugly looking at them from atop a black stallion. "Are you two ready to go for a walk?"  
  
The two girls exchanged stunned looks. "Uh, yeah. Our walk. On _foot_ ," Alya reiterated, staring at the horses pointedly.  
  
Chat laughed. "The horses walk on hoof— technically. And we are going for a walk. Just instead of us, the horses will be doing the walking.”

“Smooth, your highness,” the knight, Sir Nino, mused, reaching out to fist bump the prince.

Marinette scowled. Alya looked embarrassed— and it was Chat and that stupid grin of his that made her uncomfortable! Once again, she felt herself irritated at class differences. "Yes, and I suppose that _technically,_ we don’t have to walk together. Right?"  
  
"Well—"  
  
"If you'll excuse us, Lady Alya and I will be going now. Thank you.”  
  
"Wait, princess!" Chat begged, but Marinette ignored him. She hated when Alya acted demure around nobility. It had taken many years for Alya to drop her mask around Marinette, and many, many more for her to talk normally around the king and queen. Moments like these just reminded Marinette of the times before when Alya would shut her out.

But then Alya suddenly stopped in her tracks, catching Marinette's attention, and ripping her from her contemplative thoughts. "Alya? What’s wrong?”

Alya shook her head, a glint of something questionable flashing in her eyes. “Hold on, Marinette. We should just go along with them.”

“But Alya—”

“Plus, I have an idea,” Alya added, a mischievous smile quickly returning to her face.

_Uh oh._

* * *

  
  
Chat Noir was utterly shocked when he saw the two girls return from the stables. But then he burst out into laughter, thoroughly amused. "I like that look on you better, Marinette."  
  
"If you're joking, I'll—"  
  
"No! I'm serious," he insisted, genuine. "You look more comfortable in those clothes. Naturally pretty."  
  
Marinette shrugged, fighting off a rising blush atop her strawberry roan mare, Tikki. In the short time her and Alya disappeared into the stables, they'd changed into their riding gear— leather boots and long, black skirts, paired with a red jacket emblazoned with the Dupain crest, pulled over their frilly white chemisettes. It was dual parts fashionable and practical.  
  
"My parents would kill me," Marinette mused, eyes trained on her deerskin gloves. "Not only did I ditch my clothes, but I did so in the stables. The _stables_ , Alya.”  
  
"I don't know, Marinette," Alya called from behind her, trailing along on her own chestnut mare. "Alix and Kim seemed to think it was a good idea."  
  
Marinette rolled her eyes as Chat and Nino looked on, amused. "Alix and Kim also thought it was a good idea to put soap in the birdbaths to, and I do quote, 'give them a bubble bath.'"  
  
All of them laughed, Alya still trying to keep a neutral expression on her face. "Hey, I'm just saying. They wouldn't be in charge of the stables if all their ideas were bad."  
  
The party of four eventually grew quiet, trodding along in comfortable companionship until a stream came into view. Three of them carefully navigated their horses over it, as to not spook them. Yet Marinette and Tikki— who were well acquainted with this trail— decided to rush through the water instead.  
  
"Ah, I see how it is," Chat purred, a slow grin spreading cheekily. "Up for a race, then, my lady?"  
  
"Only if you're looking to lose," Marinette challenged, while Alya and Nino looked on helplessly.

“Hey Chat, bro, maybe you shouldn’t—”  
  
But before Nino’s words could be headed, Marinette had eased Tikki from a trot into a canter, feeling the immediate rush of the wind at her back. She felt a cheer rise in her chest, loving the thrill she felt as Tikki's hooves pounded beneath her, her own body moving in tandem.  
  
She looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, Chat followed not far behind.  
  
Chat goaded her on, winking as he passed her and cut through the trees, no longer travelling on the well-worn trail. Marinette's only thought as she followed him was _he's not very prince-like, is he?_  
  
But Marinette didn't stop to think about it further. Instead, she focused on keeping up, using his golden halo of hair to keep track of him through the trees. She smiled to herself, knowing this forest by heart. Soon enough, the sparse forest would become an open, grassy field— safe for her to push Tikki to a gallop.  
  
"You good, girl?" Marinette said as she patted her horse's neck. But she knew that Tikki enjoyed the rush as much as she did. The past few days she'd been cramped up in her stables as a result of how hectic things had been. Marinette could tell the mare was itching to break into a full-out sprint.  
  
The dirt and moss underfoot turned to long grass, and with a burst of speed, Tikki and her easily overtook Chat. His smirk faded quickly off his face, a fact that _thrilled_ Marinette.  
  
Their horses ran through the meadows, flanks shiny with sweat in the sunlight. By now, it was past noon, and the sun was high in the sky, with not a cloud to disturb the picturesque blue. Marinette felt so free. It was why her and Tikki had such a strong bond— many afternoons of stressful responsibilities over the years led to Marinette oft to escape into the wild meadows, where she could relax as just another rider, and not the daughter of a prominent kingdom. And on days like these, it was especially easy to forget.  
  
Eventually Marinette felt Tikki pulling harder against the bit— a sign that she was tiring. She loosened her hold on the reins and allowed Tikki to slow down to a comfortable pace. "Good girl," she praised, patting her mare's neck lovingly.  
  
Chat Noir and his horse quickly matched their pace, falling in stride with them easily. "You're quite the rider, princess. I’ve never met someone able to keep up with me and Plagg until today.”  
  
Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes. "Of course. I've ridden these grounds the better part of my sixteen years."  
  
Chat grew quiet. He stared at her longer than she liked, and she started feeling a little uncomfortable. "What?"  
  
"Nothing, my lady. It's just that you're more amazing than I remembered."  
  
"Remembered? How d—"  
  
"I mean, heard. As in, heard about from the stories my father told me about you over the years, you know, hah," he finished hastily, ignoring Marinette's curious looks. Chat changed subjects before she could ask further. "We should find a place to dismount and relax for a while. Plagg's hungry; I can tell."  
  
Thankfully, she agreed without question, telling him to follow her. He did so without any of his usual snark. But as Marinette guided him under the shade of a large oak, she started wondering if she did prefer him quiet after all, or if— maybe— she actually _liked_ his pestering. She risked a glance at him quickly. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, his eyes trained ahead, a cloudy introspection marring the usual bright green. Marinette frowned. Why was he always bouncing back and forth between his joking persona, and this solemnity? It was like there were two completely different sides to him. Marinette couldn't help but wonder which one she was going to get, what with how frequently he seemed to flip.  
  
Either way, she decided that the empty feeling she felt was because she was so used to him talking, and now that he was quiet, she noticed the silence especially.

They lead Tikki and Plagg to the tree and dismounted. Shaking the uneasiness out of her head, she did her best to return to the present and take care of her mare. She reached into her pocket to pull out a handful of sugar cubes, laughing when she saw Tikki's ears perk up. "Tikki loves sweets," she says, by way of explaining. "How about Plagg? Does he want some?"  
  
"No. Plagg likes cheese."  
  
Marinette stared at him, waiting for the punchline that was obviously coming. Instead, Chat just shrugged. "Honestly. He's just weird, I guess."  
  
"Like horse, like owner." She teased. Marinette's back was to Chat, so she couldn't see his reaction. But as Tikki licked the last sugar cube from her hand, she noticed a shadow over her shoulder. "Hmm? Suddenly quiet, are we, kitty?"  
  
Chat reached out to brush her hair behind her ear, and she shivered, his leather glove having a weird affect on her when it touched her neck. He suddenly tugged Marinette around and pinned her to the tree, trapping her in with his body. "I was just thinking about... things."  
  
"T-things?" Marinette stuttered, and she mentally cursed herself for stuttering.  
  
"Yeah," he said, reaching out to play with her hair again. His fingers then retreated to hover over her lips. "Like how we're alone."  
  
Marinette bit her lip. Chat drew closer. "So?"  
  
"Well, you know. We're technically engaged, and all..."  
  
"Mhm..."  
  
"An engaged couple, all alone." Chat waggled his eyebrows, and Marinette couldn't take him seriously anymore. She stifled a laugh. "How scandalous," He finished.  
  
"The only thing scandalous about this is your sense of humor," she said, pushing him away. But Chat wouldn't budge. Before she could stop him, he leaned even closer— until his lips were but inches from hers.  
  
"Tell me, Marinette. Do you like me?" Chat asked. Marinette felt her heart skip and painfully throb in her chest. _Traitor,_ she thought. _You belong to Adrien. Six years ago, we promised..._ Her pain must've shown on her face, because Chat backed off. "Princess? What's wrong?"  
  
"Chat," she whispered, a sudden stupid courage rushing through her. She turned the tables and spun him around, pinning him to the tree instead. "Let's play a game."  
  
"Okay," he answered, breathless. It pleased her to see that she had that effect on him, too. She liked being back in control. (And also, it was a convenient excuse to dodge an uncomfortable question.)  
  
"We alternate asking questions, telling the truth no matter what. You know, to get to know each other. And I go first."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Marinette took a deep breath. "Why are you so intent on pursuing me? I'm already bequeathed to you. So why do you bother putting on this show, like pretending to care if I liked y—"  
  
"Stop," he said abruptly, pulling into a hug, his head coming forward to rest in the crook of her neck. Chat’s warm breath fanned over her collarbone, making her freeze. And that was before she felt his lips move against her skin. "Stop talking about yourself like you're not incredible."  
  
"O-oh." Marinette's face was on fire. She was certain of it. "I..."  
  
"Marinette," he began, moving back to meet her eyes. "I don't 'pursue' you because of some ridiculous document saying you're mine. In fact, I've always thought it the other way around. I'm yours, if you'll have me."  
  
"But wh—"  
  
"Why? Because I love you. And I want you to love me back, and not because you're obligated." Chat said, looking tormented again. Marinette's heart clenched. She hated seeing sadness on his face; she almost wish she hadn’t asked, if it meant he’d go back to being light-hearted and happy again. "I don't wish to make you uncomfortable princess, but it's so hard to hold back now that I have you in my arms. You have no idea."  
  
"N-no. I think I can understand." _Curses, more than you think, silly kitty. Already, I feel as if I've known you much longer than just two days..._  
  
She released him, moving to stand beside him instead. They were quiet for a moment. Marinette watched Plagg and Tikki graze by the nearby stream. Then, the silence was suddenly broken by Chat clearing his throat.  
  
"It's my turn, my lady. If we are still playing this game.” 

“Y-yeah. Ask me.”

“Why did you hesitate earlier when I asked if you liked me?"  
  
"Because... I'm not sure," she answered honestly. She decided to leave out the part about swearing her love to Adrien, and how she could never love anyone the same.  
  
Chat's face looked wounded. "Are you in love with someone else?"  
  
"I was," she said. "A while ago. But he died."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
  
Marinette shook her head. "No, it's not your fault. His death was a terrible accident. Just a tiny brush fire in the dry season that burned through his cottage while he slept. It happened so long ago that I'm not really upset anymore, just... feeling like fate took him too soon."  
  
"Like you missed out on something great," he echoed, and Marinette nodded.  
  
"Yeah." Marinette was pleasantly surprised by how understanding Chat was being. Perhaps even he could be sensitive when the situation called for it. That being said, Marinette didn't really want to dwell on the conversation any longer. “My turn. Is your name really Chat Noir?"  
  
"No, not really. My familiar Plagg's main form is a black cat. In my kingdom, it's not uncommon for mages to go by their familiar classification, especially if they're well-known for it."  
  
"Familiars? Mages?"  
  
"So... you know a certain bit about magic, right? And how some people have a more natural inclination for it?" Chat started. Marinette nodded for him to continue. "Well, certain people have a more fluid, magical soul than others— it's easier for them to see the world as something more. Those people are called magic users, or mages. These people are especially prominent in my kingdom, which was originally founded by a society of mages. But most notably— what truly makes a mage a mage— is that their nature attracts a familiar that helps them practice magic, among other things. Magical spirits choose their masters if their principals and goals line up, and if their spirit is willing— and able— to accept magic. Typically people need to come from mage families, but sometimes, a person is special enough to become one without it in their blood."  
  
"That's incredible," Marinette said, thoroughly impressed. "That is, if you're telling the truth."  
  
"I am," he insisted, grinning. "I told you before, my lady, I do not lie."  
  
"Alright. But you'll have to show me some of your cool cat magic later, or else I’ll presume you’re making this all up."  
  
Chat's eyes lit up in excitement. "I'd love to if it'd please you. But I have to warn you, it might make you swoon."  
  
"Oh, I'm _sure_ , kitty cat. I'll be careful not to fall too hard," she concluded, laughing. "And I know I already asked a question, but I have to ask: what's your real name, anyways? Not your familiar name?"  
  
"I can't t-tell you that," Chat said, uncharacteristically anxious. "I'm sorry."  
  
Marinette was confused. "Why not...?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't explain. Yet."  
  
"Chat." Chat wouldn't meet her eyes. He looked incredibly sad— like a child about to be scolded. Sighing deeply, Marinette... decided to let it go. She couldn't stay mad at him when he was so obviously in distress. "Chat, it's fine. We just met each other yesterday. It's expected that we have some secrets we don't want to share right away."  
  
"But I want to tell you. Really," he pleaded, and Marinette felt her heart do a weird turn in her chest again. "It's just... complicated. My old name's sort of dead to me. No one calls me by it anymore, except for Nino— sometimes. My father hates it, especially."  
  
Marinette didn't really understand, but he seemed serious. She felt a slight twinge of regret for bringing up something painful once again. "Alright. I believe you."  
  
The playful mood from before was gone, replaced instead by a comfortable quiet. Chat slid down to sit next to Marinette at the base of the tree's thick roots. She smiled half-heartedly at him, but he barely noticed. _He must be deep in thought. I wonder what he's thinking about._  
  
Recalling the night before where she'd spent the better part of it trying to get inside his head, Marinette chose to let it go. The silence between them was pleasant; she should relax while she had the chance, what with how things have been going lately. Marinette stretched her legs out from underneath her, leaning back until her shoulder blades rested against the bark, and her cheek pillowed on Chat's shoulder. He jumped surprised at the contact—before he leaned into her, his own cheek on the top of her head. _He’s like a cat leaning into a touch,_ she noted with a smirk.  
  
Marinette reached into the leather pouch at her side, pulling out the tiny moleskin sketchbook, along with an inkwell and a (slightly crushed) quill. The sketching area was only a bit larger than her hand, and the inkwell the size of her thumb, but it was convenient for drawing on the go.  
  
She felt Chat's eyes on her as she began sketching the meadow. She drew the cloudless sky, including the pigeons and magpies flying overhead; she included Tikki and Plagg, who were grazing by the winding river in the foreground. And she drew an imagined rendition of her and Chat, relaxing beneath the oak tree. He seemed particularly intrigued by that.  
  
"My head's the same size as my body, my lady."  
  
"Shhh. It's just a sketch." She poked him gently on the nose with her quill, leaving a black smudge behind. "Don't be rude."  
  
Chat seemed unperturbed. "I'm not insulting your work. I was simply making an observation of the otherwise flawless—"  
  
"Okay I get it, I get it," she teased back, giving in to his antics. "Gods. You're so unbelievable, sometimes."  
  
"And so are you, Princess!" Marinette shot up, spilling her ink in the process. "I've spent over an hour looking for you!"  
  
"L-lady Alya!" Marinette cried, surprised by the sudden appearance of her friend. "When did you and Sir Nino arrive here?"  
  
"Just a moment ago." Alya looked unamused. "Prince Chat, are you aware of the ink on your face?"  
  
"Yes. It was a gift from the princess herself."  
  
"Ah, how lovely. I must say, it's certainly got quite the artist's touch to it... Perhaps you should splatter ink on all your dresses, Princess."  
  
"As long as Marinette is wearing them, I'm sure they'll look fantastic, ink or no ink."  
  
"Really? Then perhaps I should show you some of her early creations—"  
  
"Both of you, stop conspiring against me!" Marinette moaned, hands waving helplessly in front of her as Chat and Alya continued to talk as if she weren't there.  
  
Chat blinked innocently. "I would never, my princess."  
  
"I would," Alya answered simply.  
  
"Alya!"  
  
"Marinette!"   
  
_"A... Alya..."_  
  
"Princess, you and the prince are expected to make an appearance at afternoon tea in the lounge," Alya said dully, looking incredibly fatigued. "I don't suppose you remembered that, either."  
  
"Alya... I'm sorry, please forgive me," Marinette said, giving her best sad eyes to her friend. Naturally, all it took was that for Alya to forget about why she was upset in the first place.   
  
"You know I love you like a sister, Mari. I could never stay mad at you."  
  
"You're the best, Alya. I don't know what I'd do—"  
  
"But all of us are leaving, now. I'd sooner die before allowing you be to late for your guests!"

Marinette probably selectively forgot about that in her schedule, she realized, as she went off to collect Tikki. If it was what she remembered… her and her parents would be discussing the finality of the treaty— the part about her _getting married_. She swore under her breath as her fingers shook, giving her trouble grabbing onto the reins. _Calm down. Focus. You can do this, Marinette._

Whether she liked it or not, she’d be facing her fate— and soon.


	3. château noir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
>   
> In this chapter I had Marinette and her mom speak Chinese. It's my personal headcanon that they're both fluent in it, so made them speak it in my AU because 1) plot??? sort of??? 2) because I can ahah. I've studied Chinese for about 2 years now so I'm by no means perfect, but I believe my translations are pretty accurate!!! Anyways. Enjoy <3

Predictably, Alya and Marinette arrived with no time to spare. They'd changed back into the dresses they'd ditched at the stables, with the help of a (very amused) Alix. Kim had offered to help, but flushed red the second they started stripping, and offered to stand guard instead.  
  
"There! Lookin' fresh and good, girls," Alix crooned, grinning as she patted their heads affectionately; she was standing on top of a crate so she was taller than them, Marinette noted with amusement.  
  
"Thanks, Alix,” Alya and Marinette said together.  
  
"Now go! I don't wantcha to be reflectin' badly of us here, ya understand? Make the kingdom look good."  
  
"Yes, of course!" Marinette shouted, already in a run. "Thanks again for helping!"  
  
Marinette cut through the flowerbeds, carefully hiking up her dress to ensure no dirt got on the white material. Alya followed closely behind, praying to all the gods she could think of that they’d make it in time.  
  
"Thank goodness," Alya cried, out of breath. "King Gabriel hadn't arrived yet."  
  
Alya and her sat down on the plush loveseat across from her parents; she smiled as she sat down on the soft downy, feeling the soft fabric sink with her weight. But her glee disappeared as her mother’s frown increased. "Marinette, dear... your hair looks quite wild today."  
  
Marinette replied "yes, the wind was intense" the same time Alya said "it’s my fault, Queen Sabine." They exchanged a panicked look; Alya started to say something, but she was cut short. The time for discussion had ended the second Prince Chat and King Gabriel entered the room, a guard, a small black cat, and a hawk in tow. Marinette held their gazes with a smile, fidgeting with her hair when she felt them look away. She could’ve swore Chat was laughing at her with his eyes. _I’m going to strangle him later._  
  
King Gabriel sat in the high-backed chair adjacent to the two loveseats, facing the low table adorned with fancy teas and flowers with controlled distaste. Prince Chat sat to his right with Plagg on his shoulder, in a chair servants had hastily pulled from the dining room to accommodate him. Plagg’s tail was curled leisurely around his master's neck.  
  
"I've asked Nathalie to keep record of our proceedings today, if that is acceptable with you, King Dupain."

“Yes, of course.”  
  
Marinette was surprise. Her father hardly let King Gabriel finish his sentence before agreeing, which was unusual enough. But that wasn't what Marinette found the so _strange_. She watched as the hawk that entered the room with them waited upon a side table by King Gabriel, making an expectant noise. The guard brought over a leather-bound book and ink as it (she?) pulled a quill from her bed of feathers, the tip already sharpened to a point to write with. Marinette watched  as— Nathalie?— opened the book with her talons, and proceeded to hold the quill in her beak, dating the top of the paper.  
  
_"Ta zhen liaobuqi,"_ her mother purred in her native tongue, high praise in her voice. She looked at her daughter as she said, _"Zenmeyang, Mali Wangfei?"_  
  
「它真了不起。怎麼樣馬麗王菲？」  
_She's really incredible. What do you think, Princess Marinette?_  
  
Marinette stuttered as she replied, _"W-wo ye jiaode ta shi liaobuqi de... danshi mama, weishenme yong zhongwen tanhua?"_  
  
「我也覺的它是了不起的⋯ 但是媽媽，為什麼用中文談話？」  
_I also think she's incredible... But mom, why are you speaking in Chinese?_  
  
Marinette's mom shook her head, smiling. _"Mali, Qing ni fanyi."_  
  
「馬麗，請妳翻譯。」  
_Please translate, Mari._  
  
"My mother says she is very impressed with... Nathalie. And I am too," she repeated, hesitant. Chat stared at her like she'd just dropped a bomb.  
  
"Princess, you can speak Chinese? You're amazing!"  
  
Even King Gabriel seemed mildly impressed— which was a lot, coming from him. "I was not aware you spoke fluent Chinese."  
  
_"Ta keyi, ta keyi hen hao de,"_ her mother piped in again, waxing praise for her daughter. Marinette felt her anxiety levels increasing by the second. She _hated_ speaking Chinese in front of non-speakers because of the way they stared at her like she was some sort of alien. She didn't know why her mother was putting her on the spot like this.  
  
"Queen Sabine says I can speak it very well," Marinette said, weakly.  
  
"This is good. I have many connections with kingdoms in the east, yet no translator. Their broken English was impossible to understand..." he muttered, shaking his head. "And completely forget their French. You will be an invaluable asset to our kingdom."  
  
"Father," Chat Noir protested, rising up off his seat. "You're not suggesting making Princess Marinette work as a translator?"  
  
"I don't mind. Really. I grew up speaking it, so it's quite natural for me—"  
  
"But you shouldn't _have_ to—"  
  
"Enough, child. I told you that was part of the deal. I would agree to this engagement, but only on my terms," he commanded, and Chat turned a bright shade of red. He completely _melted_   back into his chair, avoiding eye contact. Marinette could've sworn she saw Plagg snickering. But what did King Gabriel mean when he said that he would "agree to the engagement"? Did that mean... _Chat_ was the one that suggested their marriage?  
  
Marinette had difficulty breathing. Is that what Chat meant when he said that he loved her? And he was really telling the truth? He... he cared about her for that long, and he wasn't just marrying her because he had to? He _WANTED_ to?  
  
Alya must've come to the same conclusion, because she suddenly squeezed Marinette's arm. Her firm grip said _I know, girl, I know,_ and Mari finally was able to breathe in and exhale, now that time had continued to move. She suddenly remembered the cup of tea in front of her and reached for it, hoping to hide her surprise in the form of hot Oolong tea.  
  
"As I was saying. I wished to remind the Dupain Court that Prince Chat and I will be departing tomorrow, along with Princess Marinette. The wedding ceremony will be in exactly one month, on the 31st of August. We will have a celebratory dinner the night before as well. Shall you wish to come, I'm able to make arrangements for additional sleeping quarters..." Marinette tuned King Gabriel out. Her stunned expression stared back at her from the surface of the tea, blue eyes turned a honey green in the reflection. She felt as if she were looking back at herself through the eyes of a stranger. _What does this mean,_ she fretted. Chat had gone from red to a sickly pale, translucent shade, and Marinette felt her curiosity heighten. _Who is he? Why does he love someone he’s never met? Someone… like me?  
_

Worst yet, she realized tomorrow would start her lengthy journey of being trapped in a carriage with Prince Chat and King Gabriel, off to a curious land she had no prior knowledge of. And now she had Chat's secret to think about the entire three-day trip there.

\---------------------------------

It was at the first crack of dawn that Adrien— no, _Chat_ — was sent to rouse Marinette from her sleep.  
  
_Adrien,_ Chat Noir thought as he tugged open her French doors. _Am I really him, anymore?_  
  
To his surprise, the princess was already awake. Marinette sat on her windowsill, a leather bag packed at her feet. It contained several of her favorite moleskin notebooks, two paintings she had done (one of her and Alya, another of her and her parents), a bundle of her favorite quills, her beloved ladybug hand mirror and matching earrings (a gift from Adrien and his mother), the ladybug mask Chat gave her at the ball, several jars of Chinese tea leaves, three nightgowns, riding clothes, her measuring instruments and tools for sewing, toiletries...  
  
Marinette wasn't able to bring any of her dresses with her. She was assured there would be materials for her to work with when she got there, but… it wouldn’t be the same. Her dresses were just as much of her home as the Dupain Castle. As to carry a piece of it with her, she wore her favorite dress that morning.  
  
This dress was surprisingly simple— it was a soft rose color, and its hoop was small, falling from her hips in a loose, straight fashion. At her waist was a white ribbon, separating the bottom half from the top. And that was where her artistic ability shined.  
  
The dress hugged her neck and came to a side with two white pins, design exactly like a traditional Chinese qipao. It was patterned with intricate pink and white flowers, with white lace on the neck cuff, the edge of her sleeves, and above the white ribbon. Overall, it was a gown that mixed eastern and western styles— a cultural piece that spoke of her own upbringing. She wore her exquisite silver hairpiece— the one she had gotten in her coming of age ceremony— in her bun. The rose quartz, opal, and diamond pieces that were embedded in and dangling from the curled silver flower design caught the early morning light in dazzling display, and Chat was stunned silent.  
  
Marinette turned around to look at him when she heard him enter the room. For once, she had her bangs pinned back as well. "It's time already?"  
  
"Y-yeah. Gods, you're so gorgeous."  
  
Just like that, the illusion of a distant, ethereal Marinette was shattered as she blushed even through the light rouge on her cheeks. "C-chat, come here."  
  
Chat didn't need to hear twice. He went to go sit by the windowsill, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste. That, and because he couldn’t look away from her. Marinette laughed softly, grabbing him by the wrist to steady him, tugging him into a sitting position. He sneakily took the opportunity to grab onto her hand. His grip was soft yet clammy as he held hers delicately, like he was afraid she'd disappear. But this time, she didn't move to pull back like usual. He felt his heartbeat increase tenfold.  
  
"I know it's a little late for this, but... sorry," she said. Chat looked at her, confused. Then, she reached behind her pillow and pulled out a stack of letters. Chat’s eyes widened in recognition. He immediately identified the black seal on the envelope as his own, but... wow, did he really send that many letters? He groaned inwardly at his past self. "To be honest, I thought you were annoying, so I never answered your letters."  
  
"Your words, my lady. They hurt me—"  
  
"And really, I was right."  
  
_"Rude."_  
  
"But..." She turned her gaze back on him. The crystal blue rendered all his thoughts obsolete, and the letters in his hands slipped through his hands, falling unattended to the floor. "But Chat, I... IthinkIlikethat."  
  
"Hmm? What was that?"  
  
"I said, I think I likehowyouare since itsyouand— and— you’re okay.”  
  
"My lady," he mused, bringing his free hand up to cup her chin and tilt her face up to his, "please speak more clearly."  
  
"Shut up, kitty. You heard me the first time."  
  
"I did," he admitted, smiling cheekily. "May I ask you a question, then?"  
  
"I don't see why not," she muttered.  
  
"Marinette... may I kiss you?" As Chat asked her that question, she felt her heart leap in her chest. She was speechless, lost for words. _How do I answer to that?_ But all she knew was that her answer was _yes, absolutely,_ and her childhood love for Adrien was shoved in the back of her mind as she nodded vigorously, heart pounding for her very real and very attractive fiancé, Chat Noir.  
  
The two of them looked at each other from under their eyelids, shyly. Despite all his talk, Chat was nervous when it came to _actually kissing her._ She was beautiful, and he was a peasant bastard child, whose death was faked so his father could reclaim him, discovering his existence after his mother hid him in fear for 12 years. But she died. And he was his father's lonely plaything, hanging onto his childhood promise to Marinette 6 years ago. The promise where he swore he’d protect her from everything unpleasant in the world. And while she may have been more capable than him, he had been so, so in love with her then. And he still was now.  
  
He poured all of that and more into his and Marinette's first kiss— a gentle, shy thing, when two are in love, but unsure how to say it. He squeezed the hand he still held, grounding her— the only thing tethering them both to reality, stopping their fluttering chests from sending them tumbling into the next world.  
  
Her lips were as soft and as sweet as they'd seemed, Chat observed, as he craftily slipped his upper lip between her two, slightly tilting his head to the side as she did the same, eyes closed dreamily. Warmth blossomed in him, pure bliss overtaking his limbs. Marinette felt the same, but with the sharp edge of excitement sparking each touch; it was something between anxiety and jubilation, leaving her breathless. But her fears faded as she felt his breath stutter, too, and she realized he was just as nervous.

And then, after just a few short seconds, the kiss ended; Chat's one hand still cupped her cheek, and his thumb stayed occupied by rubbing circles on her cheek. She sighed complacently. Chat suppressed a shudder as he realized he was breathing in her exhale, being as close as he was, their foreheads still touching. Even the slightest of movements made him feel more of _something,_ whatever this feeling was. Whatever it was, it left him euphoric.  
  
"Well, w-we should probably go now," Marinette said after a minute of silence, the tension slowly building back up in the air; she wanted to escape before she did something stupid, like kiss him again.  
  
"Come, then," Chat said softly, holding a hand out to help her rise to her feet. "Let me show you the way, princess."

\---------------------------------

Marinette was much relieved with the travel situation once she saw it. "My father and I will be travelling in a separate carriage," Chat explained, jabbing his thumb in its direction. "It'll just be you and Nino travelling together, so don't get any funny ideas—"  
  
"Chat," Marinette deadpanned. "What kind of funny ideas could I get in a carriage?"  
  
"Well, you know... If bandits come, don't try and fight them. And don't listen to Nino no matter what, _especially_ if he starts talking about my childhood," Chat admonished. Marinette rolled her eyes at his serious tone. “And do not leave the carriage—” Then, with a sudden impulsive thought, Marinette silenced him with a quick peck on the lips. Chat's words died in his throat as her stared at her, blank-faced. Marinette started realizing what she just did, so she (fast) walked to the carriage and shut the door behind her— before Chat could see that she was blushing just as furiously as he was.  
  
Nino— already seated— smiled at her, thoroughly amused. "Nicely done."  
  
"W-whah—! O-oh, Nino— you were here..."  
  
"Yes, princess. I've been waiting here for a while now."  
  
"So that means you saw—" Nino's thin smile widened out into a broad grin, and Marinette groaned. He resisted the urge to give the princess a congratulatory high-five. _Man, she's so cool! She's got Adrien head over heels..._  
  
Marinette hid her face as a fresh blush spread over her cheeks. She was so embarrassed. She had thought that her and Chat were alone— that Nino, Nathalie, and Chat's father were all still inside. Public displays of affection were _so not cool._  
  
"Hey, lighten up, lady princess. Look at Chat. He's still standing out there looking flustered. In fact, I don't think he's moved one bit since you'd kissed him! Wow, that’s—"  
  
"Sh-sh-sh-SHUT YOUR QUIET, PLEASE," Marinette begged, fumbling with her words.  
  
"With pleasure, your highness."

\---------------------------------

Nino had three days to observe the Noir Kingdom's future princess. Three, very curious days, wherein Adrien's mystery crush had gained not only a face, but a _big_ personality.  
  
"Nino. Is the horse okay? Oh, I really hope so. She's foaming an awful lot, I... Whoa! Did you see that?! I was leaning so far out the window, I almost got hit by a tree branch—"  
  
Nino tried to withhold judgment. After all, he was a simple guy. Liked simple things. He supposed that's why him and Adrien clicked so well, after all— when Adrien was brought to the castle at 12, Nino was an equally-overwhelmed page. He was newly-appointed— fresh off the farms. They both knew what it was like to grow up like commoners and be thrust into a foreign world of classes and diplomacy.  
  
But for even him, Princess Marinette seemed unusual for royalty. She had an air of barely-controlled energy, threatening to spill over every time something new and exciting came into view. She was like how Plagg was with cheese— but instead, with _everything that passed by._  
  
"Princess," Nino began cautiously, competing with a flying bug for Marinette's attention, "is this your first time travelling?"  
  
"Yes! How could you tell?" Marinette said, while smiling at the ladybug she had cupped in her hands.  
  
"Just a hunch."  
  
But it wasn't. Marinette was a myriad of expressions whenever she wasn't restraining herself— and even then, she still seemed more transparent than the average court member. Everything excited her! But at present, Nino was grateful for how easy to read she was: it gave him a tiny window into young Adrien’s world— before he'd ditched his name and became the crowned prince.  
  
And, despite how much of a handful she was, upon seeing her smile, it wasn't hard to understand why Adrien was so head over heels in love with her.

\---------------------------------

Three very long days later (during which she did her best to ignore Sir Nino's gaze and any and all thoughts of her fiancé), Marinette was finally alerted by the driver that they would be arriving soon. She felt nothing but positive feelings as she saw the rolling green hills flatten out into fields of cows and corn, and a large, white castle that came into view. She was surprised to see that as they rolled into town, the people waved at them— strangely, like they were in a trance. They went right back to work as soon as the party passed.  
  
Nino sent her a silencing look before she could even ask. "See any weird magic, say nothing. Okay?"  
  
And just like that, Marinette felt a feeling of dread set in. The ladybug— still resting on the palm of her hand— went airborne, landing on the carriage wall in front of her. Its little wings stretched out, as if it was deciding whether or not to leave through the window.  
  
_Me too, little friend. Take me with you._ Marinette pulled the curtain back uneasily and looked outside. The tiny stone cottages had followed the slope of the hill, rising upwards with the earth— until the peak, when the road straightened out into a single stone path to the castle. Marinette gulped nervously. It was at least _three times_ the size of her old home, and a thousand times more imposing. It was all serious business— even the flower gardens were just whites and dark purples, lacking liveliness in its uniformity. Nino seemed to recognize her anxiety, so he consoled her with a gentle touch to the shoulder. "Princess, I know the castle is a bit... much. Definitely not my ideal place to crash. But I swear, the place is a lot more cozy if you know the right people inside. Plus, me and Adr— _Chat_ aren't so bad, right?"  
  
Marinette laughed, too preoccupied by her nerves to think much of his slip up. "Yes. I know. I'm sure I'll... adjust soon."  
  
The twin white stallions came to a halt in front of the heavy mahogany doors, held open by servants dressed in white and black uniforms. A third— dressed slightly differently, with a sword at his waist— came out to open the door for them, heartily greeting Nino after a polite welcome to Marinette.  
  
"Nino, bro, I've missed you! Without you around, I've become the laughingstock of the knights in your place."  
  
"Ha ha, very funny."  
  
"Not to mention, while you were gone..."  
  
Marinette felt out of place. But then she saw Chat and King Gabriel at the top of the stairs, so she followed after them, making her way up to the entrance.  
  
King Gabriel arched a chilly eyebrow. "I see Sir Nino left you to your own devices."  
  
_Oh gods, no. I can’t get Nino in trouble already..._ "No sir, it was at my request he went to get me a cup of water," she lied easily, meeting his eyes with confidence. "I was parched after the long journey."  
  
King Gabriel looked unconvinced, but he dropped the issue with a wave. "The prince will see you to your quarters. I'll take my leave now— I have more important business to attend to."  
  
Chat shot her a grin. Completely oblivious of his father's clear dismissal, all he could focus on was being alone with Marinette. _Finally._ After three long days, they could spend time together.  
  
Yet... as he sent a servant off to get her luggage, finally leaving the two of them mostly to themselves, he felt a sudden heaviness in the air. "Let's go, then," he squeaked, voice cracking on the last syllable; Marinette giggled at his flustered expression, definitely _not_ loving how cute he looked when he was embarrassed.  
  
At the main entrance were two long staircases, both curving along the sides of the arched walls. He took her up the left one, and she looked outside the large windows above the railing, mesmerized by the view of the rolling hills. The details on the windows and railings were intricate enough to be distracting, too. Gold and black mixed to create a defined, regal look containing all the walls.  
  
At the top of the stairs was an arched entrance to an extensive, two-story library; Chat pulled her away from that with the promise that she could return later. She smiled and agreed, and once again, Chat felt incredibly awkward. He felt himself rambling, going on about useless things that unfortunately echoed off the white marble floors and arched hallways.  
  
As he showed her yet another sitting area and washroom, Marinette recognized his babbling for what it really was: they were his nerves, stemming from his desire to impress her. This was going to be her home from now on. In his own weird way, Chat wanted her to love it. She felt her heart lurch again. She… really, really appreciated it. She wished she could show him somehow, so he’d calm down.  
  
"—So yeah, that was how I accidentally slept in the hallway once. Oh look! We're finally here."  
  
Chat opened the door to a large, three-story room. She recognized the tall, circular room as one of the four towers in the castle; she thought it was a bit of an unusual choice of a bedroom. The windows were plentiful, but small and squared— certainly meant for vantage points for guards over comfort for royalty.  
  
But the furnishings more than made up for the strange room. A plush fur carpet lay over the cold marble floors. Wooden chests and desks were shoved along the bedroom walls, overflowing with books, papers, gemstones, ink, and confusing, starry maps. There was a telescope next to a desk. A four-postered bed with thick black sheets was pushed several feet from the wall, yet still, off to the side enough that there was plenty of room to move around.  
  
However, the most significant features were the walls themselves. The ceiling was a map of the stars, detailed and (Marinette presumed) accurate. Twisting down from the top were series after series of paintings featuring snapshots of history, all including a black cat. Most had writing alongside the portrait— and some, in foreign languages that Marinette couldn't even identify.  
  
"Wow," she said, impressed. Chat looked bashful at her compliment and shrugged.  
  
"This used to be a storage room, but I liked it, and decided to make it my bedroom instead. My father thinks it foolish."  
  
"No, I like it," she reaffirmed, distracted. She was still fixated on the paintings. "Are those of your kwami?"  
  
"Yes. That's Plagg and his other masters through the years."

“It’s incredible. This entire room is incredible.”

“M-... Marinette,” Chat stuttered, moving closer. “Thank you. I know this situation is unusual, but… thank you for giving me a chance.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, confused.

“I mean that I was so afraid that you’d straight up reject me, and just marry me out of duty. But you’re even more amazing than I thought.”

“Chat,” she whispered, leaning in the same time he did, “you’re such a pain in the ass, I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

He laughed, pulling into a hug and spinning her around as she grinned. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I know, I’m so mysterious,” he purred. “You never know what cat I’ll let out of the bag.”

She pushed him away playfully. “That doesn’t even make _sense_.”

“It makes plenty of sense, thank you very much—”

“Augh! Can you humans stop being so affectionate for once? I’m trying to eat, here.” Marinette jumped back from his arms in surprise. She scanned the room, searching for the source. But the only other living thing in the vicinity was Plagg, who was lounged across Chat’s bed, eating cheese.

“Chat?” She said, nervous. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear… what?” He asked slowly.

“Uh-oh. Can she hear me?”

“Do you hear him?”

“Should I?” Marinette cried, confused. She was looking back and forth between Chat and the bed, where the voice was coming from.

Suddenly, Plagg jumped from his place upon the comforter, sitting down in front of her. “Hello, I’m Plagg. But you knew that, so, uh… whatever. Got any cheese?”


	4. étudier amour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started to (try) and explain the familiars (and kwamis) a little better in this chapter!!! 
> 
> Also a slight tidbit of info I forgot to mention last chapter: 馬麗, or "Mali", was how I translated "Mari" into Chinese. The characters mean "beautiful horse", if you translated it literally. But the horse character can also be read as a "European knight class" (popular example would be the knight in chess), so I like to translate it as "beautiful knight". I think it's a really fitting name for her :-)

Marinette stared, mouth agape. Birds were writing, cats were talking. She felt like she'd left her sanity back at home. "Um... hello?" She looked at Chat for reassurance that she wasn't going crazy, and that his familiar was indeed talking to her. Chat exhaled a breath she hadn't known he'd been holding.  
  
"Marinette... Plagg. Plagg, Marinette."  
  
"We already know each other, pretty boy," Plagg complained, flicking his tail with irritation. "She just hasn't been paying attention to me until now."  
  
"Plagg," Chat groaned, as mortification spread across Marinette's face. "Don't be rude. You know it's not her fault she couldn't hear you."  
  
"Yeah yeah, selective hearing, I get it," he muttered, strutting away back to his previous spot atop Chat's bed. "Don't we all."  
  
"Chat. I liked your cat better when he _c-couldn't talk_ ," Marinette stuttered.  
  
"Everyone does."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Agh... I hadn't expected you to pick up on him so fast," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "How about I make good on my promise to show you the library?"  
  
"...Okay," she agreed, warily looking at Plagg. "When?"  
  
"Later. After midnight, when everyone's asleep."

Marinette laughed nervously. "Is there a reason we have to be so secretive?"

"Yeah," Chat admitted, as he scanned one of his bookshelves, reading each title with growing agitation. "My father can't know I'm telling you this." He looked her dead in the eyes. "He'd kill me. Quite literally."

 

* * *

 

Marinette couldn't believe it took her less than 24 hours to already start breaking the rules. _Won't Alya love to hear all about this._  
  
After concluding his tour of the more important rooms in the castle, Chat had led her back towards his bedroom. Except this time, he took an unexpected turn into the doorway across from his, into a decently-sized guest bedroom. Purple walls papered with fleur de lis and decorative flowers matched dark, oaken furniture, with white lace thrown over the wood. The bed sheets were pure white— so white, Marinette was almost afraid of sitting down. Thankfully, the made bed was already disrupted by her luggage scattered about on top.  
  
"Remember later," Chat promised ominously, and Marinette nodded again to reassure him. It was weird. Since coming back to his castle, Chat's (irritating) confidence changed into something more subtle and demure. But maybe it was too soon for her to make such a judgment. Maybe... maybe he needed some time to readjust to life here again. Or, better yet, maybe she just needed to get to know him better.  
  
That's why, at 11:58 pm, Marinette was slipping out of her bedroom with a woolen shawl over her head and shoulders, sneaking down the path she remembered to the library. Obediently, she hid behind the last bookshelf on the left of massive room, where she was obscured by the tower of books from any prying eyes. She kept her own gaze trained on the arched wooden doors.  
  
After what felt like forever, one door hesitantly creaked open, and in tumbled Chat, soaked to the bone. Marinette gasped in concern, and despite her better judgment, she leapt out from hiding and rushed to his side. "Chat!" She whispered forcefully. "Where were you? I—" Chat shook his head and silenced her. _Not here. Wait a moment._  
  
"Father caught me sneaking out. Lied and said I was going to discipline Nino for leaving you unattended earlier." He pursed his lips distastefully. "Knights' quarters are out by the stables. It was pouring outside."  
  
Marinette gave him a look of sympathy. He just shrugged, seemingly used to it as he brushed his wet hair back. Marinette tried not to let it show on her face how weirdly attractive she found him with water dripping from his features. But Chat grinned, good at picking up at her thoughts as ever. "Let's go. Before I give in to that look you're giving me," he purred. Marinette was too tired to protest, so she simply allowed herself to be tugged along, careful not to bump into his drenched form. With only the dim moonlight to go by, however, it was harder than she thought.  
  
"Chat, I swear, you have night vision," she muttered under her breath, watching him fiddle with a lock by the glint of a key. His laughter, though soundless, shook his form.  
  
"What kind of cat would I be without it?" But then, he got the door open with a click, and his hand closed around hers to lead her up the dark, hidden staircase through the door. Though steep, a window at the top of the stairs illuminated their path, and it was easy to follow. Chat was patient in guiding her up it. And then, at the top, Marinette recognized the tiny, square space as a secret library. The shelves were lined with nondescript tomes and texts, with even a tiny space dedicated to catalogued scrolls. In the middle of the room was a low table, with mismatched cushions on the floor serving as seats. Laid out across the surface was a large book, already open to a page. Marinette looked at Chat, questions racing through her mind. He gestured for her to go ahead... before realizing he was still holding onto her hand, and dropping it like it personally lit him on fire. He blushed heavily, which Marinette remained oblivious to, as she was too busy exploring the room instead.  
  
"Chat? Is this yours?" Marinette asked, fingers running over the spines of the books.  
  
"Yes. I've collected them, over the years. Some I stole from my father's collection, others I've gotten from old teachers, friends, merchants."  
  
Marinette flipped through the pages of a book she pulled off the shelf at random. It was lined with pictures of all sorts of animals, with strange inscriptions in the margins, and curious symbols drawn all over the animals' photos. Unsure, she put the book back and looked at Chat. "Does this have something to do with... Plagg, earlier?"  
  
"Yeah. Come here. I got this book out to show you." Retrieving a tinderbox from the shelf, Chat lit a candle, its light allowing enough brightness to read the tome in question. Chat arched his eyebrows and, in the dramatic lighting, Marinette couldn't help but think he looked like a mad alchemist. But then, he opened his mouth. "Now, if any part of this seems like too much—"  
  
"I think I can handle it."  
  
"Right, right. Sorry for underestimating you, my princess." Chat grinned. Marinette shivered at how, in their proximity, she could see the flame of the fire reflected in his teeth. "Please go ahead. Read." And so she did.  
  
The system of magics practiced by current mages is a time-old tradition dating back to before written records. Though techniques and spells vary by family, one thing is certain: without a familiar to bring out their talent, a mage's abilities are greatly limited.  
  
There are two different types of mages. The first being a bloodline mage, born into a family of users. The second type is more rare, but not any less talented. This class is known as an knave mage. Derived from a word meaning "of humble birth", these magic-users developed their talents without coming from a magical background, and generally are the first in their family to practice magics.  
  
Bloodline mages are typically able to do basic magic from birth, but do not acquire a familiar until age ten or twelve. As they are already talented individually, they are not required to accept the first offer given to them by a familiar. Alternatively, knave mages are "awoken" around the age of sixteen, when a familiar personally claims or makes itself visible to its new master. This opens its master's eyes to the magical world, and cannot be undone.  
  
"But wait... if I could hear Plagg, does that mean he's my familiar?"  
  
"No. That's impossible, because Plagg and I already have a contract," Chat said. "However, it does mean that a familiar has bonded to you."  
  
"Wouldn't I know that?" Marinette asked, suddenly agitated. "How do I not know anything about them?"  
  
"Read the last paragraph," Chat insisted softly, pointing to the text.  
  
_In regards to familiars, they are magical spirits that take on an animal forms in the realm of the physical world. Yet they are not required to help mages; in fact, some are rogue, and can become violent, depending on their wishes. They only become submissive in the face of a master more powerful than them. However, there is a rare, secondary type of familiar called a kwami. Kwamis are "lifetime familiars" that recognize their master at their birth, and will follow them as a guide through life until their master is aware of their presence. Kwamis are the strongest type of familiar and extremely rare, as not only are they less volatile than other types, but they take on a role of equals with their master. Their relationships are mutually beneficial._  
  
"Plagg recognized you were marked by a kwami. He's one too, you know," Chat added. "But that's why we think you suddenly could hear him. When you found out about their existence, it must've triggered you into becoming aware."  
  
"...Oh."  
  
"Yes. Marinette, have I told you how amazing you are today already?"  
  
"Chat! I didn't do anything to deserve praise."  
  
"But kwamis are seriously powerful. Not just anyone can attract one, you know."  
  
Marinette tugged her shawl closer, shielding her surprised face. "What's my kwami like, Chat?"  
  
"Plagg called her Tikki. He said she's alright, which in Plagg-language means she's most likely amazing. Also that she had a kind heart."  
  
"Tikki? Like my horse?— oh. _Oh._ "  
  
Chat beamed. "She's been around more than you think. Plagg annoyed me for a while before I knew about him, too. I kept finding cheese in weird places."  
  
Marinette laughed. She could see it now, after meeting Plagg. In his own subtle way, he was probably extending the olive branch towards Chat. "So where is Tikki then?"  
  
"Plagg says she disappeared to collect some items around the time you became aware. Supposively, she made him swear to take care of you while she's away for a few days. You'd realize that's quite an impressive accomplishment if you knew Plagg better."  
  
"Wow. I can't wait to meet her, then. I'm glad both of us are capable of bossing you two around."  
  
"Hey! That's not true."  
  
"Really?" Marinette smirked, leaning closer. "You wouldn't do anything I asked?"  
  
"Not everything," he countered, though his heart treacherously sped up faster.  
  
Marinette bit her lip. Chat tried to ignore how much of an effect she was having on him. "But... you'd do a lot."  
  
"Yes."

"Huh." Quiet descended on the room, but neither of them broke eye contact. Marinette held her breath, for fear she'd gone too far. But his eyes were alight with glee even in the dark, and Marinette wondered if he was waiting for this all along. "So... if I asked you to kiss me...?"  
  
"I could probably do it," he murmured, staring at her lips. Her bottom lip was red and raw from her worrying it between her teeth all afternoon. Stress. Chat wanted to wipe all concern from her mind.  
  
He moved closer but hesitated when their lips were but inches apart. Marinette's eyes had little flames from the candle in them— flickering almost teasingly— and he couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by them. Mesmerized by _her_. How every time he was with her, he felt like he'd known her forever— yet still, knew so little.

Meanwhile, Marinette wondered if flirting came so naturally to him, how come her was so awkward whenever it came time to follow through? She laughed softly and he did as well,  _finally_ shocked into motion.  
  
He closed the final distance, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, until his hands rested firm on the small of her back, and her arms were loosely tangled around his neck. She moved seamlessly against him, pushing when he pulled, pressing closer when he hesitated, afraid to let their chests touch. Her breathing stuttered when his hands began rubbing circles into her back, the same insistent, yet comforting pressure she soon felt pressed against her lips.  
  
The kiss until that point was mostly chaste, yet Marinette had never felt closer to anyone in her life. She shuddered when Chat suddenly decided to suck on her bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth with a soft suction. Marinette mindlessly moved her hands up to cup the back of his head, her fingers intertwining with his golden locks, still messy and damp from the rain. She didn't need to open her eyes to know he looked beautiful.  
  
Marinette tugged gently at his hair, pulling him back to allow herself room to breathe. But he _loved_ that, as evident by the noise he made. Her vision swam, overwhelmed with all the simulation. But it was overwhelming in a good way.  
  
"Marinette," Chat moaned, half-heartedly fighting against her hands to get closer, "Marinette, you're such a tease."  
  
"No — I'm — not," she insisted, lightly kissing him between each word. "You're just demanding."  
  
"Or maybe you just like me like this," he purred, eyes blown wide. "When I'm a mess for you."  
  
Something sank hot into the pit of her stomach and she had a hard time breathing. She bit her lip, ignoring how Chat tried to pull free from her grip, but not enough to actually be successful. She felt like she was on fire. _He liked this_. "I d-don't know. That's..." _What is this? What am I doing?_  Lost for words, she looked at Chat anxiously. His expression softened.  
  
"Marinette... Oh, Marinette. Please don't worry about... this." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her jawline and she gasped. His mouth wasn't only just good for talking after all. "Don't worry about... a thing."  
  
"Those are awfully big promises to make for a t-tiny kitty."  
  
"Trust me," he insisted, and she rolled her eyes. But how could she not? He was the only one she _could_ trust, now that she had been ripped away from her home.  
  
It was easier to kiss him rather than ask questions. 

Chat's hands moved up until they cradled her shoulderblades, massaging them until she leaned back into his grasp, exposing her neck. He deftly continued pressing kisses down the pale expanse of skin, only stopping when he came to her collarbone to press a particularly hard kiss. He nipped at the spot before licking over the pain, sucking there until Marinette saw stars. Without meaning to, her arms jerked up, pressing his face into her neck. He responded with a gentle kiss over the bruise he just made.

Wordlessly, he returned to kissing her lips. But this time it was desperate and hard, like they were on the verge of separation for an indefinite amount of time. It was messy, because their feelings overrode all logic, and neither really knew what they were doing besides  _feeling_. But for both, it was  _perfect_.

 

* * *

 

 

"Whoa, Adrien. For a drowned rat, you seem pretty happy." Adrien ignored Plagg's jab and set to work on removing his damp clothes instead.   
  
"Plagg, did you fill up my bathtub?"   
  
"For the slice of Camembert you left me? _Yes._ "   
  
Adrien sighed in relief. Plagg may be difficult sometimes, but he never failed to come through with his requests. "Thank you."   
  
Leaving his clothes to dry on the edge of the washbasin, he sank into the water, satisfied, even though it had cooled off to just about room temperature. It was easy to lose himself in the water. For one thing, it always made him relax and reflect on his day.   
  
Plagg jumped up on the edge of the marble tub. He stayed a comfortable distance away from the water. His leering grin made Adrien itch to splash him, if just for a moment. "So. What did you tell our princess, Adrien?"   
  
"Just... stuff about kwamis. And don't call me that," he insisted, tone reprimanding. "What if you slip up around her?"   
  
"You're going to have to tell her at some point, you know. I barely got Tikki to agree not to meddle. She's pretty protective of Marinette."   
  
"And I am too. That's why she can't know I'm Adrien... for now. It'll just disappoint her, Plagg."   
  
Plagg tilted his head to the side, questioning. "Don't tell me. You _really are_ just another pretty face after all?"   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"She _loves_ Adrien. She _likes_ Chat, too, if your dazed look is anything to go by. What's the problem? I don't even do the whole love thing and I can figure this out."   
  
"But it's not that simple. She thinks I'm dead. My father made sure everyone in my old life did," he said, laughing bitterly. "He had to kill Adrien to make Prince Chat real. And if Marinette finds out the truth, then she'll think I was lying to her... Or worse, she won't like me at all anymore... And if she finds out the truth about my father and the akumas, or this kingdom, or the engagement..." He groaned, dunking face-first into the water.   
  
"Drama queen," Plagg muttered, batting his paw at Adrien's head. Effortlessly, he shrank into a frog, jumping onto his master's shoulder. " _Ribbit ribbit._ Look. You look dumber than me right now. Gods, I _hate_ frogs. The lengths I'll go to make you happy."   
  
Adrien groaned and bubbles rose to the surface. But eventually, he needed air— and to listen to what his kwami was saying.   
  
"I know I have to tell her the truth. But I just don't know when. So please... Just, let me figure it out on my own, okay?"   
  


* * *

  
Chloé Bourgeois was _not_ happy. "Sabrina, how come my Adriekins has to marry such a _loser?_ "   
  
"Lady Bourgeois," Sabrina placated, holding out Chloé's makeup pallete as she applied more rouge, "you know it was an arranged marriage between royals... H-he couldn't have had much of a say..."   
  
"But it's only fitting that someone that knows the real truth about Adrien should marry him!" Chloé slammed her fist on the vanity, disrupting her jewelry and sending a pearl necklace to the floor. "Who was there when he first came to the palace?"   
  
"Y-you, my lady."   
  
"Who taught him the ways of the court after his dreadful upbringing?"   
  
"You, my lady."   
  
"Who _deserves_ to marry Prince Adrien?"   
  
"You, my lady. But—"   
  
Chloé turned on her handmaid, fire burning cold in her blue eyes. "But what?"   
  
"He's... Prince _Chat_ now—"   
  
"Prince Chat is an imposter," Chloé declared, puffing her hair up in the mirror. She blew a kiss at her reflection. "Shall I remind my beloved that?"

 


	5. rien mais la verité

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? Haha, just kidding. 
> 
> ... So sorry I'm a bit late with the usual weekly update! But, this week is 1500 words longer than most, so take it for what it is. Also, I've finished planning the plot for this fic! Needless to say, I have an end goal in mind, but it'll take another 5 chapters at least, I think :-)
> 
> Enjoy

Tuesdays were easily Prince Chat's least favorite day of the week. For starters, he had a required etiquette class from 9 to 11 am. It was quite similar to how the knights would joust to see which was victorious— him and his teacher, Miss Bustier, would shoot pleasantries back and forth at one another until one was knocked off their figurative horse. (And usually, it was Chat.)  
  
"So, it has come to my attention that Princess Marinette has settled in," Miss Bustier began, in between the tiny sips of tea she took. Chat wondered if she actually swallowed any, or if it were just for appearance.  
  
"Yes. We arrived yesterday afternoon..."  
  
"Pick up your spoon, dear. You know it's bad manners to rest it on the table rather than the saucer."  
  
"Right," he muttered, and corrected his error.  
  
"Prince Chat, have you introduced Lady Chloé Bourgeois to the princess yet?" Miss asked innocently, but the question had Chat choking on his scone. He coughed up a few crumbs, much to his teacher's displeasure.  
  
"Them? Together, at the same time? I— I don't think that's necessary—"  
  
"Nonsense. My word, prince, you would think all my lessons have been for naught with your attitude. Lady Chloé is one of the most highly-regarded noblewomen in the Noir Kingdom. Her father is the duke of the west, you know, where most of our trade is done."  
  
"Yes, but—"  
  
"If you had taken the time to study court dynamics," she scolded, brushing a flake of _something_ off her brooch, "perhaps you'd recall Lady Chloé is to become the Princess's lady-in-waiting. There is no other suitable for making court appearances with your wife."  
  
_Wife,_ he thought, and his stomach fluttered. What a terrifying word. "What about Lady Alya? Marinette's old lady-in-waiting?"  
  
"That _advisor_ of hers was simply a  handmaid prancing around as nobility," Miss said scathingly. "I would dread to see her keep such bad company here."  
  
"Alya's not bad company. If anything, you're—"  
  
"—aaand Prince Chat, we'll be going now. Hate to be late and, you know how these things are... heh." Nino stood by the door, awkwardly waving an invitation scroll to catch both of their attention— before Chat did something stupid and end up doing extra work.  
  
"Don't forget what I've said, princeling. I'll invite Lady Chloé to tea tomorrow, so make sure to bring the princess. Now, go. You are dismissed."  
  
Chat and Nino left the room, both feeling the dejection in the air. When they were a considerable distance from the castle, Chat risked speaking up. "This is terrible, Nino. I don't even have to imagine it to know it'd be terrible if those two even sat in the same room."  
  
"Why are you so convinced? Marinette's sweet. Maybe she'll just... ignore Chloé."  
  
"But you don't understand," he groaned. "Chloé knows my real identity. She used to teach me etiquette with Miss Bustier when I first arrived here."  
  
That caught Nino for a second. Then, "well, the sooner Marinette finds out, the better?"  
  
"No, Nino, not you too! Plagg said the same thing earlier."  
  
"We're just looking out for you," Nino said, clapping Chat on the back. "Now come on. Lord Nathanäel invited us out on a hunting trip. That'll surely cheer you up!"

* * *

  
It did _not_ , in fact, cheer Chat up. The whole time all he could think about was Marinette, and how she was fairing back at the castle. It was the first time she had been left to her own domain in the new kingdom, and it left Chat uneasy. What if she got lost? What if she needed help, and no one was there to help her?

  
... Okay, he knew he was being a bit ridiculous. But he couldn't help but being worried! Marinette was capable, but he was head-over-heels. Rationale was at the back of his mind at the moment.  
  
He missed all of his shots on the hunt, even with Plagg's guidance. All in all, it was pretty unsuccessful.  He knew his performance with the bow and arrow was so less than stellar his father would hear about it. After all, Nathanäel had never been his biggest supporter... that was his chance to possibly befriend one another on neutral grounds, and he blew it.  
  
Nino reassured him that it was fine. "Chat, it's his job to get you to like him. You're the prince. He's just a lord, so..."  
  
"Forget it. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Nino, but what's done is done, I guess."  
  
"I got to go. It's my turn to gloss the leather," Nino groaned, gesturing to the stables. "If I don't buff up the head knight's saddle, there'll be hell to pay. See you later?"  
  
"Yeah," Chat agreed absentmindedly, waving off his friend without much of a thought. He had other things on his mind.  
  
Back at the castle, everything seemed to be progressing as normal. The dining hall was set for lunch— no doubt, the finest quality, but set for a party that will never show up. King Gabriel had his meals brought up to his tower.  
  
Instead of dwelling on that, Chat started on his happy quest to find Marinette. First he checked the library and main halls; he checked the second-story sitting room, with a balcony overlooking the gardens. He even looked into his room and then hers (of course, after knocking to deaf ears), before realizing she was nowhere to be found. Luckily, a maid passed by at that point.  
  
"Are you looking for the princess? She's in the last room in this hallway, on the left."  
  
"Thank you," Chat said, entirely meaning it, before skipping down the hallway towards his love. The maid giggled at his infatuated display.  
  
Truth be told, he couldn't remember what this room was used for. A lot of the rooms in the castle were empty, waiting to be filled by families and friends of the royal family permitted to live within its walls. But King Gabriel kept no company in his halls besides his only son. Even then, no one in the kingdom knew about his heir until he was 12 years old, and miraculously "freed from enemy hands", as King Gabriel reassured them. He started a war with an enemy kingdom, claiming they kidnapped his son and held him hostage all those years. And as soon as it had started, the war ended, and everyone accepted Prince Chat as if he had been there all those years.  
  
But Chat always felt uneasy by how his father seemed to make things happen always in his favor. As if he was controlling all those people from up in his tower...  
  
"Hello? Chat, is that you?"  
  
"You called?" He purred, slipping in through the open door. Marinette sat in a mostly empty room, with nothing but a desk, two naked mannequins, and several crates filled with fabric. She held something pink and warm in her hands, lacing it through with a thin, metal needle, and white string.  
  
"Hardly. I could hear you from out in the hallway," she teased, looking up from her work momentarily. "Well? What do you think of my new workshop?"  
  
"Hmm..." He began, rubbing his chin for a dramatic effect. Marinette rolled her eyes as he walked around the room, pretending to scrutinize it. In actuality, it was perfect. He wondered if this room used to be a greenhouse. A ceiling of skylights peering into the sky and wall-to-wall windows on three sides of the room left it feeling almost exposed to the outdoors. Low shelves lined each side of the room, bags of dirt and terracotta pots nestled within, long forgotten. He liked it. "It's perfect."  
  
"Me, too. I was thankful your father gave it to me. Can you believe it?"  
  
"No, not really," he said truthfully. He realized all of a sudden that he could see his father's tower from here. He swore he could see him looking down through the circular, stained-glass window— but he knew that would be impossible. He shook his head. "That's really unexpected."  
  
"I know," she gushed, and she was closer than Chat last remembered. "I'll be honest. He frightened me at first. But maybe he's not as bad as...?"  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
"... Why don't you like him, Chat? I'm not trying to be insensitive. I just want to understand."  
  
Chat sighed, unable to meet her hopeful expression. _I thought that way, too, when I first met him._ "He just likes things a certain way. He'll turn a blind eye to things that don't affect him, even if they're hurting other people." He thought of Hawkmoth and the akumas, and how his father didn't seem to care... He shuddered. "He does things that benefit him regardless of how others feel. That is all."  
  
"What? You think he has a motive for giving me this room?" She laughed, thinking it absurd. "What could he gain?"  
  
"For starters, your trust." Chat looked at her with concern. He... he wished he could _tell_ her the whole truth, without exposing himself. But talking about his past would go into dangerous territory. He carefully thought out his response before telling her. "He's not a terrible person. But he's hurt me a lot. And I don't want you to be hurt, too, so just trust me, okay?"  
  
"You're always telling me to trust you," she complained, but it was without any bite. She allowed him to come closer and cup her cheeks, smoothing out her furrowed brows. Eventually, she relaxed into his palms, enjoying the warmth. "But for some reason, I always do."  
  
"Hmm? What was that, again?"  
  
"I said, I always do _trust you_ , kitty," Marinette repeated, ignoring the laughter in his eyes. _Teasing, teasing. He's always teasing. I guess it's for that reason I take him all the more truthfully when he's being serious._  
  
"Good. I'm glad."  
  
"Me, too. That I have you here to trust," she clarified. "At first, I was worried that you'd just be some mangy kitty without any benefits. Yet you keep giving me more and more reasons to keep you around."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Chat grinned, towering over her. She after all was still seated at her desk—  he stood a good distance above her, even when leaning down to cup her cheeks. "Name a few. I could stand to have my ego stroked."  
  
She placed her hand over one of his and pulled him towards her, until their hands were intertwined and he was crouching by her instead of still standing. "Saying things like that doesn't help your case. I take it back."  
  
"No! _Purrlease_ tell me, my princess. It'd give me the strength to go on~"  
  
"Ugh! Absolutely not. Come back when you're feeling less annoying."  
  
"Okay," he agreed, and disappeared from the room. Marinette stared at the door for a few moments, dumbfounded. Did he actually... just leave? That was not what she wanted. She was just teasing him! Now that he was gone, she honestly wished he'd come back. She pouted, unwilling to return to her work... but she did, to distract herself. She couldn't believe how _quickly_ she started to miss him.  
  
But of course, he returned— this time, with a book in hand. He grinned at her dejected look. "Miss me?"  
  
"Oh _my gods_ ," she exclaimed, jumping and nearly pricking herself with her needle. "Don't startle me like that!"  
  
Chat bowed before her, humble. "I am terribly sorry, my love. Next time, I shall alert you of my presence with a bell. 'Oh, Marinette! Here I am! Exactly what you wished for!'"  
  
Marinette groaned and reached into one of the crates, throwing a wad of bunched-up fabric at him. He screeched, feigning pain and toppling over, one hand pressed to his forehead. "How ever may I go on...!"  
  
"You'll live."  
  
"But I am unsure. These wounds seem fatal...!"  
  
"They're not." Chat blinked mournfully at Marinette and she caved, a soft smile gracing her features as she patted on an empty space on her desk. "Come here, silly kitty."  
  
He happily complied.  
  
From there, they passed the hours in each other's company, hardly speaking. There wasn't really anything to be said. Every now and then, Marinette would look up at the same time Chat would pause his reading to look at her, his eyebrow arched playfully; it sent pleasurable jolts through Marinette, and she felt like she was in heaven, between her new fabrics and the boy taking up far too much space in her heart. It was painful to dwell on it too much. She felt like she'd never tire of seeing him, even if sometimes his jokes and puns got carried away from him. He was... familiar. Comforting. In a strangely calming way, she felt as if he'd occupied her time his whole life, rather than just a short week and a half.  
  
_I guess that's what happens when you spend all your time together,_ Marinette reasoned, smiling softly.  
  
Eventually, the warm afternoon cooled into the early evening, and Marinette's stomach rumbled traitorously. She realized all too late that she'd lost herself in her work. After all, she was more than just a little eager to change out of her borrowed dresses and into something she'd made herself.  
  
"You hungry?" Chat asked, setting his book down.  
  
"Yeah," she admitted. "I thought we'd be called for lunch, but..."  
  
"We don't have scheduled dining hours here. I eat whenever I'm hungry."  
  
Marinette looked at him curiously. "Really? Doesn't your father organize things?"  
  
Chat shook his head, leaping to his feet. "Nah. He's pretty withdrawn unless he wants something from me. Let's go get something to eat! I'll introduce you to the chefs. I'm sure you'll love them."  
  
Following Chat down the winding staircase, Marinette trailed behind him through the entrance hall and dining hall, through an oak door that lead to an impressively large (and busy) kitchen. Crates of vegetables and grains and shelves lined with spices lay on one side, with several wood stoves open to the outside air on another. A pot of something delicious was currently being cooked by a short, stout man in all white.  
  
"Hello, chef! Is there anything the princess and I can eat for tea?"  
  
"Of course," he replied, gesturing to loaves of bread and sliced cheeses and vegetables on china trays. "I'll have someone bring it out to the main sitting room, if the dining hall is too formal."  
  
"That would be perfect. Thank you," Chat said, winking at Marinette. "Pretty great, isn't it?"  
  
"Amazing," she agreed. "Thank you... Monsieur, chef," she offered, a little awkwardly. Chat smiled to himself at her hesitance. _Ahh, she's so cute…_

  
The sitting hall was aptly named. Just like back at her old home, it was a wide-open room with a low, center table, and fancy couches surrounding it, along with a fireplace. Since it was warm, it lay dormant at the moment. But Marinette could fantasize many chilly afternoons spent by its warmth.  
  
She scanned the bookshelves and was pleased to see them lined with all sorts of books on flowers and herbology. "It serves as an overflow room for the court herbalists," Chat explained. "Since the greenhouse is just right outside those doors, it made sense for them to leave their materials in here..."  
  
"Court herbalists? Like Sabrina?"  
  
"Yes. Lady Chloé's attendant is one of our herbalogy interns... Speaking of Chloé, uh—" Before he could finish, several servants walked in with platters of food and drink.  
  
"Pardon the intrusion, sir. But shall we set the trays down here?"  
  
"Yes, yes," he insisted, gesturing to the table. "Thank you. But Marinette, as I was saying... you haven't really met Chloé, have you?"  
  
Marinette eyed the tiny cheese squares and olive bunches greedily. She tried not to stuff her face as Chat continued to talk, but she was too hungry to offer him more than the occasional _hmm_ to assure him she was paying attention.  
  
"Chloé... She was there for me when not many others were," Chat said, thinking of how, despite her harsh treatment, she really did care about his wellbeing. Back then, and now, still. "But she's used to getting everything she wanted. That sometimes makes her hard to agree with."  
  
Marinette took a sip from her glass as she formulated an answer. "If she's important to you, then I'll try and get along with her."  
  
"I knew you'd say that. Just wait until you meet her, my princess."  
  
"Well? What else is there to say?"  
  
Chat shook his head, smiling devilishly. "Nothing. Just don't forget. You're important to me, too... More so than Chloé."  
  
Marinette allowed Chat to playfully run his finger along her jawline, drawing a line down her neck that left her giddy and ticklish. "I care about you more than anyone."  
  
Marinette caught his finger and brought it gently to her lips. She _ssshhhed_ him, just like that. "Hush, kitty. Before your meowing starts to mean something."  
  
Chat looked at her sadly. "If you wish, love."

* * *

  
Luckily, the two had more time together before the fated tea with Lady Chloé. That evening brought a scheduled dance practice for the soon-to-be-weds, similar to their first dance at the masquerade all those nights ago. Thankfully, for the time being, it was just the two of them. The dance instructor had caught a cold and was bedridden, but as Chat and Marinette were more than familiar with the traditional menuet, they carried on nonetheless.

“One two three _four_ , one two _three_ four,” Chat kept time, dipping low on the downbeat, and spinning Marinette as the quartet of violins plucked the fourth note. “Ah, quite good.”

Chat extended his arm as Marinette did a courtesy, taking small, controlled steps as he lead her into a full circle. Every step was planned and delicate, yet engaged and complex, true to the steady, baroque style.

“You’re not terrible at leading yourself,” Marinette countered, miming waving a fan flirty over her face— though, with the absence of the cloth, her hand appeared to just be fanning her perked lips. “If it were customary, however, I think I’d be a better leader.”

“And what of me— am I to be your sidekick, my lady?”

 Their steps grew smaller— tighter, more measured— before Marinette spun out again, her imaginary fan tipped in Chat’s direction. “I’m simply stating the _obvious_ , Chat. I have the eye for seeing the best course of dance.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he admitted as he stalled momentarily, watching mesmerized as Marinette grabbed her heavy skirts and twirled them dramatically, the fancy lace patterns catching the candlelight. “But I’m only the lead in name, remember?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side, looking amused as he kneeled down and pulled her hand in for a kiss. “All our guests— their eyes are on you. In that way, you command me.”

“I would still rather be in charge. Your steps are too wide, by the way.”

Chat grinned. “My apologies, mademoiselle.” They resumed their dance, the soft, steady melody of the violins filling the air. It was only a practice, but it felt real and intimate, especially with how alone they were. The two of them, together, with no interruptions. It was easy to forget everything but the steps they took, remembered from many afternoons of drills and practice, until the patterns were just muscle memory rather than knowledge.

“Marinette, I have to ask…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you nervous about the, you know— _wedding—_ ”

“A little,” she admitted. “I didn’t know about it until a few weeks ago…”

“Sorry about that,” Chat said sheepishly, though he didn’t look very sorry. “I wasn’t aware our parents would keep that little detail a secret.”

“But… after everything that’s happened, I’m happy with how it worked out. I don’t think I’ve expressed it properly. Yet,” she rectified, as she started feeling more self-conscious. Her cheeks steadily burned red, and Chat and her slowed down without even making the decision to, just decidedly swaying slowly in the middle of the ballroom. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eyes. “I’m so glad I’m marrying _you_ . I don’t know you well enough, and I certainly couldn’t tell you how or _why_ I’ve started to f-fall in _lo_ — _like_ with your terrible, god-awful puns, but—” Chat held his breath. Marinette smiled brilliantly, and he felt as if the ground was swept out from beneath him. “I’m so, so happy. I’m really scared, but so excited, I’m not sure what gives me more butterflies. Everything’s so weird and unfamiliar to me, but I have you. Now, and forever. And if I feel this strongly just after a short time... well, you know what that means,” she finished, hastily. She felt too embarrassed to continue, what with how Chat was staring at her like she had grown a third head.

“Marinette, I—” He leaned forward, resting his temple against her. “You drive me mad, Mari. I think I’m sick, because when you’re not around, my heart aches.”

“Me too, as much as it pains me… Gods, I can’t believe you made me this cheesy.”

“Cheesier than Plagg?”

“Cheesier than Plagg,” she agreed. A few moments later, and she found the courage to ask: “It’s true, then? You… requested this marriage?”

“Yes,” Chat answered, truthfully. He paused. “Does that frighten you?”

“Not really. I’m just wondering, why me?”

“I—”

“I would hope that’s not the dance you two will be doing at the wedding,” King Gabriel interrupted, making his presence loud and clear with the slam of a door. Marinette jumped back in shock.

“Your highness, I—”

“Father,” Chat edged, his eyes narrowed. “I assure you, we are quite capable dancers. We were simply taking a break.”

“Your entire day is a break. I expect you to perform for just a few, measly hours,” the King countered, silencing his son. “Please, show me your dance. As your teacher is ill, I shall be the one critiquing you. I cannot have you disappointing me at the wedding.”

“Yes, your highness,” they chorused, sharing a nervous look. Even the quartet of violinists seemed on edge as they waited for the king’s cue to continue. And then, as they started, the two began their dance like clockwork, limbs moving like marionettes.

* * *

  
“Princess, is there any way we might assist you?”

Marinette smiled at the two servants, who seemed extraordinarily nervous. “No, that is all. Thank you.” Truthfully, she was happy to see them leave the room. It wasn’t because she didn’t appreciate the company— but rather, everyone in this kingdom with the exception of Chat has been acting weird. She had gotten a glimpse at this strange behavior when she first arrived in the carriage, and the people of the village they travelled through waved at her like they were in a daze. But after spending a day alone, and spotting Nino occasionally (and comparing his present behavior to the way he acted before at her old home), she finally noticed that the hollowness was a recurring theme.

The maids were physically there, but their mind wasn't. She watched as they, too, carried through their duties absently, as if they were just going through the motions. It was unnerving. She made a mental note to herself to ask Chat about it later, but—

 _Oh, Nino._ "See any weird magic, say nothing. Okay?" His words echoed in her mind. _What… what did he mean, by that?_ She stared at her reflection in the mirror, and though she looked primed and proper for the afternoon tea, her face was etched with concern. _Is not even Chat safe?_

But she immediately threw out that thought. _No. I can trust Chat with anything. He would never lie to me._

It was time, so she headed down the stairwell into the spacious, comforting sitting room. Though the weather was dismal, and rain and wind angrily shook the windowpanes, a warm, pleasant fire lit up the fireplace, heating up her chilled bones. Though she was tense, she felt herself be able to thaw a little. She was the first one there. If anything, it gave her time to think.

A few minutes of silent reflection later and Sabrina— Lady Chloé’s servant and an herbalist, Marinette recalled— appeared. “H-hello, Princess Marinette.”

“Hi,” Marinette answered, smiling. The tiny redhead seemed nervous. Naturally, Marinette’s instinct was to calm her, as she felt sympathetic. “Come sit. Where are the others?”

“Lady Bourgeois, Miss Bustier, and Prince Chat are c-coming s-shortly.”

“Alright,” Marinette said, lost for words. The two of them sat in silence as more servants appeared, setting the low table and occasionally stirring the fire, nudging the flames higher.

The awkward silence stretched on, and Marinette started asking Sabrina about the tea of all things, desperate to fill the quiet. But Sabrina lit up with an enthusiasm Marinette hadn’t seen before. “Yes, actually. This is rose tea, from the flower gardens. And over here is a mix of chamomile and mint, which I harvested, dried, and mixed myself. I added lavender and honey for flavor, and because Lady Bourgeois loves the smell…”

“I hadn’t realized how skilled you were at tea-making,” Marinette said, surprised. Sabrina nodded diligently.

“Yes. It was in part why my lady asked for me to be her servant… the poppy tea I had made her when she fell from a tree as a child was so good, she took me from my household at once and had me stay in a room by her quarters,” Sabrina enthused, a happy smile on her face. Marinette, not so much. But Sabrina didn’t seemed to be bothered by Lady Chloé’s selfishness at all.

“Didn’t you miss your family?” Marinette asked cautiously.

“Not really. Lady Bourgeois is all I need…” Sabrina answered, a light blush on her cheeks. “I would do anything for her.”

Almost as if she heard her name, Chloé finally arrived, in a bright yellow gown, frilled with complex, white lace. Chat and Miss Bustier accompanied her, dressed equally as formally. Marinette felt as if her borrowed, simple white gown left her underdressed.

“Princess Marinette,” Miss Bustier began with a polite curtesy. At the same time, Sabrina nervously rose to her feet, rushing to Chloé’s side. “It is a pleasure to finally be made your acquaintance.”

“Yes, mine as well,” Marinette said, though she was nearly as uneasy as Sabrina. Something about this woman’s hard look made her anxious to prove herself. But then she saw Chat, and the secretive, reassuring look he gave her, and her nerves calmed themselves. “Prince Chat speaks nothing but praise about you.”

“I’m pleased to see my student didn’t fail on _that_ front. I must say, I was very disappointed not to meet you sooner than today. But, alas. May I sit?”

Marinette nodded, and the three of them sat down— Sabrina stood, hovering over by Chloé’s shoulder. Chloé chose to sit next to Chat, across from Marinette, and it sent an uncomfortable jolt of _something_ through Marinette. _No way_ , she realized, as she forced a fake smile to her face. _Am I jealous?_

“Chat and I go _waaaaay_ back, so as you can imagine, I just had to make sure my _precious prince_ made the right choice in marriage,” Chloé said, clutching his arm tightly to her chest. Chat looked uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop Marinette feeling angry. She finally understood what Chat meant by Chloé being a tad… difficult.

“Actually, Lady Chloé, it was an arranged marriage. Neither of us had a choice,” Chat explained, with a better poker face than Marinette could ever manage. She felt herself calm as she remembered their conversation the night before. King Gabriel interrupted before she could get the answer from him, but she knew for sure now that Chat _asked_ to marry _her._ No one may know, but Marinette would never forget it. She had no reason to feel threatened by Chloé, after all.

“Certainly, but I’d hate for you to get stuck with someone dreadful. Marinette, you are not dreadful, are you?”

Miss Bustier stifled a laugh, and suddenly, Marinette felt very, very cornered. _These women are prepared to hate me already._ She felt Sabrina’s gaze on her, and in the midst of her own crisis, she felt momentarily sorry for the servant, if this was the treatment she always had to put up with.

“Lady Chloé, I consider myself most pleasant. But if you are not convinced, ask the prince himself,” Marinette replied cooly. She took a sip of her tea, enjoying the sly dig she employed against the daughter of the wealthy lord.

“Marinette is the greatest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet,” Chat assured, and she felt her face begin to heat up. “Even if I had the choice in marriage, I’d pick her again, a thousand times over.”

“M-me too.”

“What was that? Speak up, it’s bad manners to mutter,” Chloé snapped, and Miss Bustier nodded vigorously, agreeing with her star pupil.

“Me, too,” Marinette said, her voice still slightly shaky as she admitted her feelings aloud. “It’s miraculous.”

“Well, what’s miraculous to me is that you don’t even _know_ him!”

Marinette was taken aback. “What?”

Even Miss Bustier seemed put off. “Now, Chloé—”

“His name isn’t Chat, you know! It’s Adrien! Adrien Agreste! Only I know the real him! Only I knew him, when he was nobody! Before he became the prince… I polished him, I trained him, I danced with him, I made him _everything he is_ —”

“Chloé!” Chat hissed, fear on his face. _Oh, no. She can’t find out this way. No, no…_ “Marinette, that’s not…”

“Adrien… Agreste… No,” she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “No, that can’t be it. Adrien died… He’s been dead for..”

“Marinette. Marinette, I’m sorry—”

“He’s dead!” She yelled, jumping to her feet. “There’s no way…” But then she looked at Chat, and the horror on his face. In her heart, she knew it was true. In some way, she must’ve known the truth all along. His green eyes. His soft, blonde hair. The way he spoke, the playful nicknames at the end of every sentence…

How he promised he’d protect her. How he _promised she could trust him_.

Marinette’s world was crashing around her. _How much of it was all lies?_ She looked at him, blinking through her tears. “Are you even Chat?” She asked, bitterly _._ “Or was that a lie, too?”

“Yes, no, I— I’m Prince Chat, I was Adrien Agreste, I—” But Marinette didn’t let him finish. She was already gone, running through the gardens to get far, far away.

Anywhere but here.


	6. sans espoir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. As you've probably noticed, this update is almost a week late! I'm sorry for that. Without getting into any serious details, I was suffering from some pretty severe mental health problems. I've spent the last 3 weeks testing new medications and combinations, with doctors essentially "guessing" what would make me feel better, and going through a lot of trial and error... they wanted to hospitalize me, but I said no, lol (I wanted to recover from home). But anyways: I was trying not to let it affect my fic updates, but as I was bedridden and not able to go to class, I've been struggling to catch up on my lessons! I've had to do everything from home. Thankfully I'm back to functioning like normal (after a new diagnosis and a hopeful fresh start!), but I've spent most of my time doing missed schoolwork and prepping for the midterms (which I also missed ;_;).
> 
> Tl;dr I was very ill for almost a month and I couldn't leave my house and now that I can it feels like shit has hit the fan and I've had to do 23094023409 things without having another breakdown, which is CRAZY. Deep sigh.
> 
> ... So that's why I was late to update. Hopefully the next chapter update will only be another week, like usual, and I can confidently go back to weekly updates. But because of the burden of school and mental health, I can't guarantee it'll only be another 7 days— maybe between 7-14 instead, at the most. But I really love writing this fic and I love all my readers and I really want to do my best so ;_; do not worry! I am NOT going to drop this fic.
> 
> Ahhh, okay. Regarding this chapter there are a few more "bad words" and also creepy men and alcohol— nothing crazy, but fitting of the time period. I'm going to bump the rating up to mature in anticipation of the next few chapters!
> 
> Thank you always for reading,  
> <3 Leah (pyuupyuu)

It wasn't until after she'd already committed to running through the grounds that she remembered it was raining. Rain came down in relentless waves and immediately soaked her to the bone, making her white dress cling to her skin. But the cool air combined with the rain only furthered to numb her limbs. She felt nothing as she reached the forest's entrance.

Distantly, she could hear Chat shouting for her, but she hardly registered it, opting to tune him out instead. She was being illogical, and she knew it. But the hurt in her heart ran deep. She couldn't help but feel betrayed by Chat or Adrien or whoever he was, and the idea that it came from some misconstrued sense of love broke her all the more. It made her feel helpless, and she hated being in the dark about anything. Years of restraint made her yearn for control of her life.

Though there was no sun, it was still light enough out to navigate her way through the trees. She numbly wondered if she had even made it off castle grounds yet. Either way, she was sure no one was trailing her. She could hear no one on foot or horseback, and the rain would wash away her scent, making it impossible for any dog to track her.

By the time Marinette found herself coming out of the woods, the sky had darkened, but the rain had ceased. She was thankful— yet she knew that the cover of night would be upon her soon. The temperature would quickly drop further, too. Her teeth had started to chatter now that her adrenaline was wearing off. For the first time, she felt a sense of panic.

But then, incredibly, a wave a calm washed over her. Almost as if she were imagining it, a path glowed before her eyes, spots in her vision dotting red and black along the ground and the tree bark. She knew where she was going. As a second wave of energy rushed through her body, she found herself picking up the pace, eager to make it to wherever she was going.

Finally, the dirt grooves in the ground turned into cobblestone, and a crude path appeared. A town was coming into view. Though tiny, it was clear that many people converged here— possibly a halfway stop on a trade route through the Noir Kingdom. Cautiously, she crawled out of the shadows, walking through the (eerily abandoned) town plaza. It was dark now, but the fading light was enough for her to spot a tavern sign advertising bed and board. Recognizing that, for better or worse, she'd be spending the night outside the Noir Castle, she reached for the tavern's door knob— which glowed with the unusual red light.

Inside revealed a grimy pub from one of her fantasy novels. Dark, wooden walls with antlers and crude candles lined the dimly-lit room, with heavy oaken tables and one, long bar, starkly more active than what she met outside. As she entered the room grew quiet, and she realized she was the only girl present, aside from a distressed-looking waitress.

"Hey, missy, where's your mister?" One guy guffawed, while his friend whistled at her.

"Go out for a walk and get lost on the way back to your pretty palace?" Another asked, earning a loud roar of laughter from the other men. Marinette shook with rage and injustice— both at their treatment of her, and how she had to face this of all things, after an already hard day. She reached across the table next to her and grabbed a knife, wielding it inefficiently, but enough so a few men leering at her backed off.

"If you touch me, I'll hurt you," she cautioned.

"Oi, why the pretties always the craziest bitches? I just wanted to play a little, that's all."

His dirty blond-haired companion grinned. "She don't seem played with much, yeah?"

"Alright you, that's enough! Back up, back up. Leave her alone." The dark-skinned girl Marinette noticed upon walking in, her gorgeous guardian angel, seemed to command the group of men. They dissipated with her words and eventually, went back to their conversations.

"Follow me, okay?" She asked. Marinette nodded slightly, enough for the girl to understand her hesitation. _She was more frightened than she seemed._

Upon that dismal revelation, she grabbed Marinette by the wrist and lead her to a tiny door beneath the stairs, which revealed a descending staircase into a stock room. Barrels of ale and mysterious crates lined the room, which was dark aside from the weak, flickering candle in the center of the room, resting on an old table. The girl didn't let Marinette go until she was sitting on a stool, and a wool blanket was wrapped around her.

"You poor thing, you're soaked to the bone," she murmured, vigorously rubbing some warmth back into Marinette's arms. Duly, Marinette noticed that the girl's thickly-braided hair had colorful beads in it, partially-disguised by the knotted fabric holding back her hair. What a strange place to be caring about aesthetics.

"I'm Mylène. My father owns this tavern, so I work as a hostess. Now, I won't pry, but... how did you end up here?"

Marinette looked at her nervously for several long moments. Mylène's questioning look softened, and she sat down besides Marinette with a sigh. "I was afraid your answer would be something like that. Could you at least tell me your name?"

Marinette debated lying, but she was too tired to come up with a convincing story. Instead, she went with a half-truth: "Mari."

"Well, Mari. You're safe here, so don't worry." Mylène suddenly pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and rubbed Marinette's face dry with it, color rejoining the tired girl's face. Marinette didn't seem reassured, however, so Mylène decided to share a bit more information. "I know it doesn't look like it... but I'm actually easily frightened, and not all that confident." Mylène nervously fiddled with her hair, twirling a thick piece of it around her finger. "I could never face the men head on like you were going to, and... I think you're incredibly brave."

Marinette was shocked by Mylène's kind words. Stunned, she could only manage a soft thank you. All other words escaped her. Furthermore, her vision was starting to get hazy, especially now with the warm blanket around her.

"Ah, you must be tired. If you're quiet, I can let you sleep in a spare room… come quick, now.” Groggily, Marinette allowed herself to be led back up the stairs and down a hallway, with numbered doors increasing in number after every one they passed. Mylène stopped in front of room six, unlocking it using a key that hung around her neck.

“No one was scheduled to stay here, so make sure you leave it seemingly untouched. Also, there are a few dresses in the closet. I suggest changing into one of those so you don’t stand out as much.”

“Mylène, how can I thank you?” Marinette whispered, tears springing to her eyes at the genuine kindness she was being shown.

Mylène shook her head. “Go to bed now, Mari. I’ll be waking you up early.”

Not having to be told twice, Marinette quickly stripped off her damp clothes and slipped beneath the scratchy covers. Now was no time to be modest. Recognizing Mylène’s good advice, she resolved to leave her old dress hanging across the bedpost, and wear one of the more plain ones she was offered. And with that, she fell into a dreamless sleep, eyelids heavy with grief.  
  


* * *

  
The next morning, Marinette was woken to soft shaking, and the curious face of her new friend. The sun had not yet dawned, but she could still see Mylène’s unique hair. “Morning, Mari. Uh... you should get up now and come down for breakfast before the other guests awake.”

With that, Mylène left to give her some privacy. Marinette changed into a brown plaid dress, and pulled her hair back into a bun so it was lifted off her face. Finally, on impulse, she slung a leather satchel she found around her shoulders. After all, it just seemed... right. There was something bulging in its pocket, but before she could open it to see, Mylène called for her again. She decided to check it out later.

The tavern bar was abandoned in the wake of morning, and a single table was set with eggs, bread, and milk. Marinette was extremely grateful for the food. She tried to hold herself back, but she couldn’t help it, forgoing her manners upon realizing how ravenous her hunger was. Mylène smiled, giving half of her share of bread to Marinette. She needs it.

It was only after all her basic needs had been met that Marinette allowed herself to think about what had happened. She felt a sickly mix of self-pity and righteous anger, wanting to kiss and punch Cha— Adrien at the same time. She remembered all the years she had mourned Adrien’s passing, how her prayers were in vain. After all, he never really died.

A small part of her still wanted to believe the best of Adrien. She resisted the truth… that he lied to her, that he knew who she was and never told her, that he faked his own death. _But why?_   She wondered. _Why did he go to such lengths to become two different people?_

Tears threatened to fall again, so Marinette wiped her cheeks and decided it was time to leave— though not before thanking Mylène again profusely. “Mylène, no words could thank you properly. I’m forever in your debt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly did much. And the dress you’re leaving me is worth ten times the one you’re wearing now…”

“Use it for yourself,” Marinette insisted.

“Alright. As long as you promise me to stay safe. And visit me again, under better circumstances.”

Marinette smiled, and pulled Mylène into an unexpected hug. “I will.”

Marinette was off, but she didn’t know where. Where was there to go? Her wedding was in 3 weeks. Theoretically, she could wander around for 20 days before returning to the castle. But… that wasn’t what she wanted. No, she should head back immediately. She needed to talk to Adrien about what happened. Even if she didn’t want to hear it, she knew she had to at some point. After all, they were engaged... that was, before all of this  _happened_. She was hurt, but she wasn't sure she wanted that to change. Whether she liked it or not, in the short period of time she knew him, she had started to feel something for Chat. And now that she knew he was also  _Adrien_ , the boy of her dreams...

But all those thoughts escaped her as soon as she was outside the tavern. The empty plaza from the night before was no more, but already busy, before the crack of dawn. People went every which way, carrying everything from fabrics to water to hay to wood. Peddlers walked up and down the streets between butcher shops and blacksmiths, whose doors were already open. Marinette openly gaped at the commotion.

Yet, like nearly every other civilian she’d witnessed, a strange air hung over them. They moved as if their actions were already predetermined, limbs creaking slowly and inhuman, like a puppet. Their voices were monotone and heavy. Of course, it only crossed her mind _now_  to ask Mylène about it...

Luckily, she didn't feel worried. She knew where she was going— somehow. Frankly, of all the weird things she'd had to go through over the past 24 hours, subconsciously knowing the cardinal directions seemed like the least of her revelations. She let the little voice in the back of her head guide her back into the forest.

After putting a little distance between herself and the town, she decided to take a break. The satchel she was carrying had mysteriously gained weight with every step, and it crossed her mind to check it.

Opening it up... she had to stifle a scream.

"W-w-w-wh--"

"Hello, Marinette! My name's Tikki!"  


* * *

  
Prince Adrien Agreste of the Noir Kingdom felt like his world had ended. He knew the truth would hurt Marinette, but he hadn't realized to that extent. _I feel awful... did I really play with her feelings? It was unintentional, true, but..._ He sighed heavily. _This entire thing is my fault. If only I told her the truth from the start._ But, he couldn't help but wonder— if he was honest from the start, would she have given him a chance at all?

Well, it didn't matter now. For all he knew, Marinette never would want to see him again. He ran after her in the rain until his throat ached from yelling and his body shook uncontrollably from the cold. Nino found him crying by the stables and dragged him into the Knights' Quarters, where him and the others set to pile him under blankets by the fire. They poured him ale, to warm his bones. Now, his cheeks were flushed with alcohol, and he felt a strange mix of trepidation and bubbles in his stomach.

"I j-just don't under _stand_ , Nino... I thought she'd love me no matter what."

"She does," Nino answered lamely, saying whatever he could to fix the prince's broken heart. "She's just confused right now."

"Well I am, too! Why couldn't we be confused together?"

"Some things you have to work out on your own." Nino smiled weakly. "Give her time, Adrien. She genuinely cares for you— I know it, man. Trust in Nino the _love doctor~_ "

Nino wiggled his arms to the phrase _love doctor_ and Adrien laughed, the first smile gracing his face in over an hour. "Alright. I'll trust in him."

"You better."

"I will!"

"Good." Nino slapped him on the shoulder. "She'll come back soon. And then, you guys can talk... and do whatever it is you do when no one's around."

"Nino—"

"Just sayin'! I know you aren't as pure as you look, your princeliness—"

 _"Nino!"_ Adrien flushed bright red. How unfair! Him and Marinette hadn't done anything like that.  _Yet_ , the filthy part of his mind supplied.

"Your highness?" A knight suddenly entered the room, getting everyone's attention. "King Gabriel is looking for you."

"Really?" Adrien asked. The knight reaffirmed his statement, leaving Adrien confused, yet slightly honored. His father rarely requested his presence. Adrien wobbled to his feet, the alcohol he consumed making him a little unsteady, yet for the most part, clear of mind. "Lead me to him."

After stopping by his room to change into dry clothes, Adrien followed the knight up to his father's tower. Though he was not surprised that his father was locked away with his work per usual, this would be the first time he'd ever been allowed to _enter_ the tower. It made him uneasy. "Did he mention why I was requested?"

But the knight showed no sign of hearing. He continued his fast-paced ascent up the stairs, leaving Adrien stumbling after him to keep up.

At the top was a large wooden door, open just a crack. No knights stood guard per tradition— just a single, white butterfly, fluttering over the cast iron knocker. The knight departed without a word.

Soundlessly, Adrien pushed the door open. "King Gabriel?" He asked the air, hearing it echo in the mostly-empty room. _What a curious workshop. There's no desk, no knights, nothing like I'd expected... Just a large stained glass window, and a ceiling miles above me._

But while the door slammed shut and a movement from the corner of his eye forced him to look up, he realized he was not alone.

"Oh, _Chat Noir._ You were foolish to let Ladybug go."  


* * *

  
"Tikki?" Marinette gasped, staring at the small, ladybug-like creature, whose big, blue eyes sparkled pleasantly. "My... horse?"

Tikki laughed, flying up to nuzzle Marinette's cheek lovingly. Marinette smiled and felt herself leaning in. "I was your horse, _mon chèrie._ And your earrings, and compact mirror, too."

Marinette started to connect the dots. "You were the one guiding me earlier today!"

Tikki nodded vigorously, feeling happier than she'd felt in years. There was nothing like the feeling of being united with her new Ladybug. "I've always been helping you, whether you knew it or not. Er— sorry! That sounded a bit creepy!"

"No, not at all," Marinette reassured her, her relief and joy expressed as laughter. "You have no idea how happy I am not to be alone anymore."

"Oh, Marinette. You were never alone."

"I know," she said, sniffling. "But it's felt that way lately."

"How so?"

"You... you know what has happened? How Chat lied to me."

"Marinette... I am no expert on love, but I have lived thousands of years. Chat did not lie to you out of malice, I'm certain. He must have his reasons."

"But that makes it even worse! Withholding information, deciding what's best for me." Marinette looked away darkly. "I've dealt with that my whole _life!_ Finally I thought Chat and I could be equals, but we weren't. Once again, someone else was planning how I'd live my life."

"Well, it's true Marinette and Chat Noir are never going to be equals."

Marinette looked at her, stunned. "Huh? I thought—"

"Hush, child. Marinette and Chat Noir cannot be equals because Marinette and Adrien are already two halves of the same coin, you see. However, there's nothing to say Chat Noir and _Ladybug_ can't be equals..."

"Ladybug?"

"Yes! Marinette, I know this is very sudden... but I need you to find it in yourself to become Ladybug. The kingdom is in trouble, and it needs it's heroine!"

 _The kingdom? In trouble? Have I noticed anything strange like that?_ Marinette thought back on it. Yes, she definitely had. How everyone seemed distant and inhuman, going through the motions like possessed clockwork. Even Nino had changed slightly from the jokester she met at her old home— how his personality seemed to fade for periods of time, as he completed some task. How he warned her about strange magic when she first arrived in the carriage, all those days ago.

"People seem... off."

Tikki nodded, serious. "That's because they _are._ An evil mage named Hawkmoth has gotten his hands on an enchanted mask, that allows him to send familiars called akumas out to do his bidding. These akumas have been terrorizing the kingdom since he came into power... But the worst part is, no one can stop him because they don't know they're possessed! The only individuals resistant to his powers are those more powerful than him. That is... those with kwamis."

Marinette was shocked yet again. "Me? How?"

"The ability to akumatize animals and people has been long associated with a certain familiar— well, Hawkmoth's, whose true name is Akuma. But the real power lies in the mask. The mask and the Akuma familiar were separated many centuries ago by a past Ladybug and Chat Noir, but... it seems Hawkmoth somehow got his hands on both parts, and regained the power." Tikki looked at her sadly. "Me and Plagg were formed by the original Ladybug and Chat Noir, born from their wish to destroy the Akuma's evil. And when Plagg took on Adrien as his partner, I knew my suspicions were true... You _were_ the next Ladybug. There's no doubt in my mind, Marinette!"

"Wait a minute. How can this be possible?! I'm just Marinette! I'm a princess from a small, peaceful kingdom. I know nothing about fighting, or magic, or kwamis or akumas or Hawkmoth, even! How can you be certain I'm the next Ladybug?"

"You saw the prophecies in Adrien's bedroom, didn't you? All those paintings?"

Marinette paused. "Well, yeah..."

"Those were made with _magic_ , painted by Adrien's visions and dreams of former Ladybugs and Chat Noirs. I don't think even he realizes what they mean, but... only the true successors could see them."

Marinette grew quiet. This was a lot to take in. In the past few days, not only has she learnt magic was _real,_  but that it was playing a role in her life. Now she was expected to take up a magical persona to save the Noir Kingdom? "Tikki, how can I do any of this? It's way too much for someone like me!"

"I'll train you, Marinette. In these next two weeks, I'll teach you to become Ladybug!"

"What about Chat Noir? Our... situation?" She winced, unsure how else to phrase it. _Just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated..._

Tikki, for the first time, looked uneasy. "Well... that's kind of the problem! The reason we only have two weeks..."

"What?"

"You see, I tried to get in touch with Plagg, but..." Tikki suddenly looked alarmed, flying up in front of Marinette's face. "Well, he told me Hawkmoth had captured him and Chat Noir, and that he was trying to separate them and _steal_ Plagg from Adrien! We don't know how long it'll take for him to figure out how to it, but... In the past, it took about two weeks for all of Plagg's power to be drained. Once that happens, Chat Noir's resistance to being akumatized... it's gone!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun... :0
> 
> Also for my faithful readers! [Please take this survey!!!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/14KJh1rXOUlI7yg6ssAeARttDLcUyed4qcFv7S3xZgwI/viewform?usp=send_form) It **will** change the outcome of the fic, thank you


	7. coccinelle est moi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy and pleasantly surprised with how this chapter turned out? Tbh. I'm getting reaaaally excited because the end is in sight, guys :) I'd estimate 3 more chapters.
> 
> Also! The results of the poll: the overwhelming majority of you voted that you did want an explicit version of them ~consummating their marriage~ (sinners! haha, jk, I'm the biggest sinner cuz I'm writing it). However enough of you were uncomfortable with that idea that I've decided to do a timeskip of their first night together, with nothing implied or written besides a little awkwardness and mentions of them cuddling :'') For the pure ones (whom we must PROTECT!!!), you can read without any worries~
> 
> And for the sinners: I'll be writing a steamy epilogue detailing just _what_ the two of them got up to ;) ;) ;)

"Oh, _Chat Noir_ . You were foolish to let Ladybug go."  
  
A familiar voice echoed in the room and Adrien couldn't believe what was happening— because no matter how _despicable_ of a person King Gabriel had been to him, he hadn’t realized his cruelty could extend to the entire kingdom. "F-father?!"  
  
Hawkmoth chuckled. "Ah. What a pleasant surprise— you are smart enough to connect the dots, after all. It spares me the exhaustion of having to explain it to you."  
  
Adrien narrowed his eyes. _I’ve got to find Plagg, or I’ll be in trouble._ He turned towards the door, but he saw with despair that it had been shut (and locked) by a horde of purple butterflies. Their poison and hatred radiated off in waves, and made the hair on his neck stand up. Desperately, he looked for an escape— but what he saw instead made a horrifying situation worse. "Plagg!" He cried, noticing his kwami trapped in a small cage dangling from the ceiling. “Tell me it's not true," Adrien begged. “You can’t be him.”  
  
“Why are you so surprised? I spent 12 years without knowledge of your existence, after your mother traitorously _lied_ to me.”  
  
"What have you done? How could you?” He cried. “I thought you were fighting Hawkmoth! You sent knights out all the time to find him!” Hawkmoth— his father— simply laughed, and flicked his cane in the direction of his son.  
  
"Nathalie. Perhaps we should put the cat on a leash, yes? We wouldn't want him to wander off."  
  
"What do yo— mmph!" Suddenly, purple chains sprung from thin air as the akumas swarmed him, slamming him into the wall with enough force to knock the air from his chest. Barely conscious, he heard Plagg call his name— right before he felt the cold, heavy iron of chains on his wrists and ankles.  
  
"So, _Chat_ . What do you know about Hawkmoth?"  
  
"That he's a monster. That you're a monster. A monster with control issues!"  
  
"Enough! You know nothing about me," Hawkmoth snapped, and Adrien felt the chains tighten. He tried to fight against them, but it was fruitless. _The chains tighten when he's angry. I need to distract him, or he's going to do serious damage to my wrists and ankles..._  
  
"Alright, so I don't know much," Adrien said slowly, holding his hands up in front of his chest. He spread his hands wide invitingly, until the chains went taut with a _clink._ "Enlighten me."  
  
Hawkmoth stared down at Adrien with disapproval. "I know what you're trying to accomplish, child. But fine— I shall entertain you.  
  
"Nathalie is the Akuma. She was born from an old mage's desire to establish justice in a lawless society. The familiars Nathalie akumatizes then possess others to carry out her and her master's bidding. However, I am not just satisfied with that." Hawkmoth held out his arm and Nathalie— as her usual form of a hawk— landed perfectly on his arm, claws clinging to the fabric. "I had finally found the mask that would restore Nathalie's complete powers. It allowed me to control the people of my kingdom, but not enough. I wanted to claim the two most powerful kwamis to grant my ultimate desire for complete power over my subjects.” Hawkmoth chuckled. “Because people aside from me are so untrustworthy."  
  
"Hey, old man. I'm still here," Plagg called from above, and Adrien cursed under his breath. The chains tightened their grasp on him as his father's anger spiked.  
  
"Quiet yourself, you insufferable beast!"  
  
"Great _gouda,_ you suck. So do your powers, by the way. Cataclysm is much cooler."  
  
"Ah, well you're currently separated from your charge and can't do it, anyways. Have fun, the both of you, rotting away here while Nathalie and I continue our research on how to break you," he said, sneering dangerously. "I assume then you won't be joking anymore." With a final sharp look, his father disappeared from the tower with a jarring _click_ of the door's outside lock. Adrien sighed in relief as the chains disintegrated.  Though there was nothing comfortable about the hard, stone floor and wall, there was some freedom now that his joints didn't feel the strange, soul-sucking affects of the akumatized chain.  
  
"Plagg, are you alright?" Adrien asked, as he rubbed warmth back into his wrists.  
  
Up above, he could hear Plagg fighting against something, too. "I've been better. For starters, the cheese he gives me is moldy, and not in the good, Bleu cheese way."  
  
Adrien rolled his eyes. "You think that might be enough of a motivator to bust yourself free?"  
  
Plagg grew oddly quiet. A few moments of grunting later, then: "I can't. There's a barrier I can't break. It won't let me change from anything besides my normal, kwami form, either."  
  
"So you can't shift to something small and break out," he muttered, realizing his plans of escape were falling apart by the second. Not to mention, while his father and Nathalie had left, the horde of butterflies still remained. He couldn't shake the feeling they were _watching_ him, communicating directly to his father and Nathalie. He didn’t see any reason to lie to himself: the odds of getting out of this situation were very, very slim.  
  
He groaned and slid to the floor. He tried to think of any positives, but came up with nothing. _I guess Marinette was right to run away after all. I can't even protect myself, let alone her... this whole time, my father let me believe he was granting my wishes, when really he just wanted her power. Our powers..._  
  
He had been wrong. Maybe there was one positive— that Marinette was far away and safe from Hawkmoth.  
  


* * *

  
"Tikki, you're going to have to show me that again," Marinette mumbled miserably, staring at the yo-yo like it was a foreign object. "How do I stop the string from getting tangled?"  
  
"It's magically enhanced not to tangle, Marinette," her kwami assured her, but even the positive Ladybug spirit seemed uncertain. Marinette certainly managed to tangle it, anyways...  
  
"Ugh, I'm the worst!" Marinette cried, slumping to the forest floor. "Why did you pick me, of all people? I'm too clumsy!"  
  
"Now now, Marinette... you're just not used to using the magic! And you don't believe you can do it, either, which is part of the problem."  
  
Marinette looked up in surprise. "Really?"  
  
"Yes!" Tikki picked up the yo-yo and returned it to her charge's hands. "Actually, a lot of Ladybug's powers come naturally. Super strength, flexibility, speed, quick decision-making, and of course, her ultimate move— lucky charm— all those things come with the suit!"  
  
"The suit," Marinette repeated.  
  
"Yes, the suit. When you say _transforme moi!,_ I combine my power with your will! And that's how Marinette can transform into Ladybug. But we can't do that until you grasp the basics of magic, _ma fille_ ."  
  
"I know, I know. But it's so hard to do, even when I try, Tikki! It's been a week, and I've hardly made any progress."  
  
"It'll come with time, Marinette. For now, let's take a break. I'm sure Cheng Shifu has made quite the delicious lunch..."  
  
True to his status as the renowned, former chef of the Noir Castle, Cheng Shifu was a master mage that used his powers to make delicious food. Perhaps not one of the _traditional_ mage classes, but it was what had earned him his unusual, food-loving familiar. It also meant that he was acquaintances with Plagg, and knew about the prophecy in regards to Ladybug and Chat Noir; he was more than happy to help the fledgling Ladybug, especially knowing that he was her relative.  
  
"Huanying, nimen. Qing chibao." _Welcome, you two. Please, eat your fill,_ her uncle said, gesturing to the meal laid out on the table.  
  
"Xiexie, Cheng Shifu! Women hen e." _Thank you, Cheng Shifu! We're really hungry,_ Marinette said, and Tikki smiled— not really understanding the foreign tongue, but getting the gist, nonetheless.  
  
For the rest of the evening, Marinette occupied herself with studying her uncle's books on magic. Most of them repeated what she already knew— how, as she didn't inherit her magic abilities, she would have to learn how to work in sync with them. _"A knave mage must learn basic magic in the same way a baby learns to crawl— slow, and steadily, for they are flexing muscles never used before,"_ Marinette read, for what felt like the millionth time that day. Though simplified, it was a helpful analogy. She just hated being compared to an infant...  
  
But! What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for with determination. And so she practiced all day and studied all night, hoping she'd somehow manage a breakthrough.  
  
That night, she dreamt of Adrien. He was a weird fusion of the man of her dreams and the man of reality, Chat Noir; it was like her brain couldn't reconcile the two different images, and instead blurred the two together. His face was fuzzy, but her dream self reassured her it was as beautiful as ever.  
  
"I miss you," Dream Adrien said, and Marinette found herself aggressively nodding in agreement.  
  
"Me too! I mean, I don't miss me— you, I miss you."  
  
Dream Adrien laughed and reached to hold her hand. She couldn't feel it, but she imagined it'd be warm and perfect, like Chat's when they held hands, dancing on the dance floor all those nights ago. Certainly, they were the same person—  but knowing who was behind the mask changed so many things. Perhaps the mask was no longer needed.  
  
"I don't really see you as Adrien," she admitted, to her beautiful, blond-haired boy, whose face occasionally shifted into focus, a smug grin gracing his smitten features.  
  
"That's alright. I don't see me as Adrien, either."  
  
"Why not?" She asked, playfully nudging him as they drifted, hand-in-hand, through the bright, heavenly dreamland her mind conjured. Dream Adrien shrugged and mussed up his hair in a very Chat-like way.  
  
" _Je t'aime,_ Marinette. Because as Chat, I have you." He smiled his trademark crooked grin and Marinette's head spun, and she couldn't help but wonder how, even while in despair over his hidden identity, he was able to sneak his way into her heart. "Adrien was Marinette's crush, but Chat Noir will be Marinette's _lover."_  
  
He ran a finger down her side, until his hand rested on her lower back. Marinette shivered and leaned into his touch. "Maybe so, _mon minou._ Perhaps I have gotten over my crush on Adrien after all."  
  
"He's pretty overrated," he agreed. Yet, that rubbed Marinette the wrong way. It was one thing to accept the new image she'd had of Adrien Agreste— quite another thing to dismiss him.  
  
"No he's not. He's _wonderful,_ if a bit more pun-inclined than I remembered." Marinette smiled softly and brushed his bangs back, exposing his forehead crumpled in confusion. _Even now, he doesn’t believe in himself._ She resisted the urge to kiss him silly, until he believed how great he truly was. "Adrien, don't ever doubt how much I love you. I've always had, and I always will. Don't insult my love by not loving yourself as well."  
  
"You have good taste, _ma coccinelle._ In everything but me."  
  


* * *

  
Marinette woke up feeling deeply dissatisfied.  
  
"Tikki, why did that dream seem so real?"  
  
Her familiar giggled, a mysterious smile playing on her red lips. "Maybe it was!"  
  
But that didn't make her feel any better— a fact she made sure to convey with her displeased look in the direction of her kwami. Yet, Marinette did not ask further. These days, she was afraid she'd get an answer she wouldn't like.  
  
So with a politeful goodbye to her relative in his native tongue, Marinette disappeared to the fields to practice more, only managing to drop the yo-yo on her head a handful of times this time.  
  


* * *

  
It had been a week since Hawkmoth— his father— had locked him up, and sadly, Adrien couldn't even say it had been his worst week. Not honestly, anyways. No— if anything, the period he'd spent with nothing but Plagg and complete and utter betrayal, well— it had given him time to reflect on some things.  
  
For starters, once he escaped, he was firing Nathalie. Turns out she'd been doing a pretty shitty job at helping his father.  
  
"Objectively, you could say she'd been doing a great job," Plagg argued, playing the devil's advocate, for lack of better entertainment. "Really, her evil is unparalleled."  
  
Adrien just rolled his eyes and didn't bother answering. In lieu of a response, he asked another question: "Why do people willingly align themselves with the devil, playing the devil’s advocate? Like, if you think the devil would share that particular opinion, why would you even bring it up? Why can't we all just be decent. And there's always one of you, some person trying to start an argument—"  
  
"Technically, I'm a kwami, not a person."  
  
"Remind me again why I chose you," Adrien said sweetly, as if inquiring about the weather.  
  
"Technically, I chose _you._ "  
  
"I don't want to be having this conversation right now. Gods, I need outside contact. Outside sane contact— my father doesn't count."  
  
Not that Hawkmoth had been particularly active up in his tower these days. For the most part, he rarely visited. Nathalie brought them food and escorted Adrien to the bathroom when he asked the butterflies— which, as strange as that sounded, seemingly relayed information to the familiar. For all their insanity, Adrien was thankful they hadn't abandoned basic human needs.  
  
Yet this period of waiting was driving Adrien slowly insane. He finally understood how Marinette had felt— helpless, and outside of the loop. He wondered how she was doing. If she was home, and told her family that he called off the wedding, or something.  
  
For two things he was certain: 1), Marinette had never returned to the castle. And 2), She wasn't coming back. No matter what some weird dreams told him otherwise.

* * *

  
Marinette was running out of time.  
  
Finally, as she managed to go an entire two days without hitting herself with the yo-yo— and swinging from tree to tree with it, only falling roughly 25% of the time— she realized that her time was very much up, as the dawn of the last day arrived. Two weeks. Two weeks, and she had barely learned anything.  
  
"Marinette, what you've accomplished usually takes months to grasp," Tikki argued weakly, doing her best to comfort her charge. It was early in the morning— early enough that the sun had barely risen. Yet almost as a promise of the day to come, clouds darkened out the sky, and Marinette felt as dismal as ever.  
  
"But it's not good enough," she whispered. "Not for me. Not for Ch... Adrien."  
  
Tikki clicked her tongue and nuzzled Marinette's cheek, before fluttering off to say goodbye to Cheng Shifu for the both of them.  
  
"Xiexie, zaijian," Tikki said. Cheng Xifu appreciated the gesture to speak his language.  
  
"Good luck," he answered as he wiped a tear from his eye, and Tikki beamed. Even Marinette smiled slightly at his rare display of emotion.  
  
She had to go. Even if she couldn't transform yet. Even if she didn't think she could do more than make Hawkmoth laugh, and Adrien cry out in pity. Yes, Ladybug was Chat Noir's _equal;_ but _Marinette_ would have to suffice for today.  
  
Once outside, Marinette watched in amazement as her mare reappeared. She didn't know how to approach her, the past mixing with the present until she was dumbstruck, and rooted to the spot. But then she heard Tikki's sweet voice, even though the mare's mouth didn't move. _"Don't be distracted. I'll be able to explain more later once we've beaten Hawkmoth!"_  
  
"Alright," Marinette agreed weakly, and mounted her horse without question. It was strange, riding without a saddle— but at least she was dressed suited for it, after trading in the dress Mylène gave her for loose-fitting, cotton pants, and a matching white blouse.  
  
Marinette clung to Tikki's mane, riding low and close to her neck to avoid falling off. But Tikki didn't complain. Not even when Marinette shouted questions in her ear, one after another.  
  
"How are we going to attack him?"  
  
"How do you know where he is?"  
  
"Are Adrien and Plagg okay?"  
  
"How am I going to transform?"  
  
"When will I transform?"  
  
"How long will the transformation last... if it works, that is."  
  
_"Plagg and I can talk telepathically. It's how Ladybug and Chat Noir keep in touch. Plagg told me their location, and that they are okay, as of now. You will transform when you are ready. And you will be, I know it!"_  
  
"I'm trying to feel reassured, but if anything, that just made me feel more queasy," Marinette groaned. But then Tikki sped into a gallop, and all further conversation was ripped into the air as they sped past.  
  
Tree after tree blurred past until it all faded away in the background, and Marinette couldn't tell one apart from the other. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she distantly recognized the sun had risen into high noon, if but a bit muted by the clouds above. Thunder rumbled, and her clothes clung to her with static; yet still, no rain came. Pine and cold air filled her nose, and wind whipped by her ears, until she smelt and heard nothing. Her sight tunnel-visioned.  
  
So much so, that after passing another clump of trees for what felt like the thousandth time, she barely recognized the castle until they were upon it.  
  
_"Hurry and dismount,"_ Tikki urged as they hid behind a large willow. Marinette listened and followed listlessly. She felt detached from her own body, as if watching from the outside.  
  
Tikki turned back to the tiny, ladybug-esque form Marinette had grown to know well, and Marinette snapped back to reality. "Now what?"  
  
Tikki, by way of explanation, led her charge around the tree, through a backdoor in what Marinette instantly recognized as the greenhouse. Almost as if by practice, Tikki fluttered around the tables until she found a trapdoor, hidden behind empty pots and bags of dirt. Marinette opened it to reveal a secret passageway underground. "It was a secret escape, in case of an attack," Tikki whispered, and Marinette didn't question how she knew. Like before, a strange, red-and-black path illuminated her vision. Suddenly, she knew where she was going, without needing Tikki's help.  
  
The stone pathway was dark and unlit, so Marinette felt along the walls, following the red path despite her lack of vision. It was hard to follow, but bright enough that she could see. Tikki rested on her shoulder, snacking on a treat Cheng Shifu had prepared to restore her strength.  
  
"I trust you, Marinette. I know there is a reason why I picked you," Tikki whispered, but Marinette didn't need reassurance anymore. She was still scared deep down, but her instincts kicked in, and she moved regardless of her fear. It was easy as she set into a rhythm she didn't recognize as herself. Perhaps it was a part of her she always had, this determination— or perhaps she managed to create it herself in these past two weeks, from her devotion and sheer will. But one thing was certain: Marinette _had_ to do this. She _had_ to save Chat— Adrien— and the kingdom, one she knew she'd grow to love, once Hawkmoth was defeated.  
  
Maybe it was love that motivated her.  
  
Yet as she finally neared the end of the path, and opened the wooden door at the end— which opened out into a small closet, that led into a downstairs sitting room, next to the staircase that led to Adrien's tower and her temporary bedroom— Marinette realized something.  
  
It didn't matter what motivated her, or what chose her, or what _made her who she is._ As she snuck around the castle, ducking into rooms to avoid staff until she made it to her bedroom, she came to the realization that none of that mattered. She dug through her bag— until she found the ladybug earrings and compact, the same ones Adrien gave her all those years ago. She put on her earrings and tucked the compact into the bag she'd gotten from Mylène, strapped across her waist.  
  
After all, Marinette didn't become Ladybug. Ladybug became _her._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a little self promotion: check out [the chat mix](http://8tracks.com/pyuupyuu/boyfriend-material) I made! It would make me really happy. Also, maybe hmu on my tumblr @ [vampirequeens](http://vampirequeens.tumblr.com/), and follow my Ladybug-only blog @ [ladynoires](http://ladynoires.tumblr.com/). Yikes! Ok. Enough of me for now :')


	8. la nouvelle reine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This update is twice as long as the usual length, lol. That's why it took me longer than normal to update— that, and because I've still been dealing with a lot of health problems/school work/real life obligations/etc. Anyways. I really wanted to make this chapter as good as I could because it's the climax of the story, and the second-to-last as far as ~plot~ goes.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far, guys. It means a lot <3

"Tikki. _Transforme moi!”_  With a flash of bright light, Marinette felt her clothes fall away, leaving her in a red-and-black outfit reminiscent of Tikki herself. It was a short dress, and form-fitting in a way that she could freely move. The round flair of the bottom of her dress was followed by matching tights and undergarments, ones that didn't leave her feeling exposed; she knew she could— in theory— perform all the tricks Tikki had been trying to teach her.  
  
Last but not least, she could feel the Ladybug mask itself mold into place over her cheeks. She jumped in the air, pumping her fist as she cheered. "I did it, Tikki. We did it!"  
  
But she realized there wasn't much room for celebration. The clock was ticking, and she had no idea how much time she'd have as Ladybug, or when Plagg's last drop of magic would be drained, leaving Adrien exposed. From there, Adrien could be manipulated into breaking his bond with Plagg, and Hawkmoth could steal the trapped kwami.  
  
And if she didn't save Adrien in time, then not only would she be fighting Hawkmoth, but her beloved kitty as well.  
  
Following the faint red and black path, she ran down the empty halls, which fell hush with an eerie silence. It was the same, otherworldly presence she felt in the town from before— like the whole world was holding its breath. But she quickly shook off that feeling and focused on the mission, because bad feelings or not, Adrien was _still_ in trouble. _Keep it together, Marinette._ __  
__  
She finally skidded around the corner, coming face to face with an arched staircase. She did a double-take, recognizing the path Tikki was leading her on brought her to the stairs up into King Gabriel's tower. It was just then that it struck her how strange it was that Hawkmoth chose the castle as his hostage point. _Then again, maybe he had picked it intentionally. He could be holding King Gabriel and all his knights hostage, too!_ Marinette didn’t have time to think about it further.  
  
_"Oh! Marinette, there's something I forgot to tell you! I can't believe I didn't—"_  
  
"Not now, Tikki. I have to focus." Marinette said, through gritted teeth as she took the stairs two at a time. The steps were grueling and seemingly endless, but strangely enough, Marinette didn't feel herself getting winded. It was like the suit afforded her extra strength and stamina!  
  
The door came into view. It was cracked open slightly. A butterfly rested on the door handle. It was oddly pure, completely out of place on the rotted wood. As she reached to push the door open, it fluttered away.  
  
Her jaw dropped at what she saw, and as she struggled to process the scene, all she managed to think was _this wasn't a very heroic entrance, was it?_  


* * *

  
If Adrien could have, he would've screamed. _No! Marinette, turn back!_ Because nothing she could've learned in two weeks would be enough to protect her from Hawkmoth. As for himself? He was already a lost cause.  
  
Just for once, he willed his princess to be selfish.  
  
Yet with his mouth sealed shut by a purple-black enchantment, only his eyes could express his panic.  
  
"Chat!" She screamed, rushing to his side. But he shook his head frantically as she embraced him. He tried to push her away, but there wasn’t much he could do with his limbs bound and mouth gagged. So, he gave in. For a moment, he could almost forget the mess they were in. The comforting warmth of her body made him feel at home, and nearly immune to the cold stone tiles he'd become well-acquainted to over the past two weeks. His eyes fell shut as her forehead rested against hers. _"Chat._ I forgive you, my silly kitty."  
  
She went to remove the cover over his mouth and the bindings tied around his wrists and ankles. At first, her fingers slipped right through the strange material— as if it wasn't really there, but a figment of her imagination instead. But after struggling for a moment, she took a deep breath. _Marinette, calm down. Your suit was made to fight this._  
  
Now that the initial panic had passed, she found the purple magic was pliable and easy to break, crumbling at the slightest force. She was so relieved. Not only did she free Adrien, but he was now able to talk without the dark magic blocking his mouth.  
  
"Marinette," he breathed, feeling both relieved and afraid. "You came back. Oh, you came _back._ Why didn't you leave me?"  
  
"I never could, and you know that," she answered. “I was confused. And I’m still upset. But I understand a little better now, and later, I’ll give you time to explain before I kill you.” She smiled sweetly, and Adrien laughed.

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed, shakily bringing his princess’s gloved hand to his lips. Marinette realized how tired and drained he was, especially without Plagg’s support. Yet still, he tried to please her. The ache in her heart burned hot and fast and before she was aware of herself, Marinette wasn’t so much as kissing Adrien, but mashing their faces together as tightly as she could. It wasn't pretty or perfect by any means, but the passion behind it made Adrien see stars.

Breathless, Marinette asked, "where's Hawkmoth?"  
  
Adrien groaned and struggled to his feet, eventually allowing Marinette to help him up. Yet he felt no shame at being rescued. He was awestruck, looking at the powerful mage his beautiful princess had become. Hell, he dimly remembered in the back of his mind playing the prince rescuing the damsel-in-distress (Marinette) from a dragon (Alya), back when they were young. The roles have flipped by now, but he was okay with that. More than okay with that.  
  
"Adri—Chat," she tried, but she couldn't call him by his real name. It was one thing to think it, but to say it, and connect it fully to the boy in front of her... _Oh, mon dieu._ "I know you've had a rough few weeks, but I need you to stay with me now!"  
  
"Uhh, what?" Okay, so he totally felt gross and weak after sitting around for so long. And that was why he couldn't stop staring at Ladybug. _His lady._ And not because she looked gorgeous, or the meaning behind her becoming his partner-in-fighting-crime. Absolutely not!  
  
But seeing her like this was like falling in love at first sight all over again.  
  
Marinette interrupted his nauseating train of thought. "I asked, where's Hawkmoth?"  
  
"Oh, right. Honestly? I have no idea." Adrien looked around, but the room looked abandoned. Not a single butterfly remained in sight. His father hadn't visited in nearly 24 hours— ever since his last attempt at forcefully breaking his and Plagg's bond.  
  
_Plagg!_ "Mari! I don't mean to frighten you, but Hawkmoth probably knows you're here. You have to get Plagg down from up there before he comes back."  
  
Marinette nodded solemnly. "I think I have an idea."  
  
"I don't know how easy it'll be. Hawkmoth has Plagg surrounded by a magical barrier that's been draining his power. I'm not sure how to break it."  
  
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." She looked up and squared off her feet. The cage had to be 20 feet above her. While the cage itself was sturdy, it hung from a rusty, ancient-looking hook; perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas, but if she could just get the cage within reach... _Plagg's a magical being. He won’t be hurt by the fall,_ she reasoned.  
  
She swung her yo-yo towards the contraption— and missed by several feet. Her cheeks momentarily burned in embarrassment from having Adrien watch her fail, but then she remembered herself. She was _Ladybug,_ not just Marinette. And the boy behind her was just as much of the dorky alley cat she’d grown to love as he was Adrien, the crown prince.  
  
She tried again, and came closer that time. And then: the magical yo-yo connected with the rusty hook, the metal easily coming dislodged from the stone ceiling, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.  
  
And that was when the black swarm of akuma exploded from within, spiraling out from the freed cage. Marinette only had one, final realization before everything went to hell: _oh. This was a trap. Adrien... did Adrien know?_  
  
"Marinette!" Adrien cried. Fear took over as he leap forward by instinct, shielding the girl with his body, arms spread wide. None of them could touch her or she’d become possessed. With or without Plagg, he would protect his princess with every last breath.  
  
When the akumas crashed over him, the sensation was a lot more peaceful than he expected. It was calm, like an ocean wave washing across his sensations, shutting them all out as his vision went black. He heard Marinette cry his name and the frightful sound of Hawkmoth's laughter before his hearing tuned out, too.  


* * *

  
"Chat!" She cried, but it fell on dead ears. She watched as his face gained that strange, distant look— complete with glazed over eyes like all of Hawkmoth's victims, no longer in control of their bodies. She resisted the urge to weep— instead, she focused her burning gaze on the cause of it all, who stood leering by the doorway.  
  
Hawkmoth stood tall with Nathalie on his shoulder, and Plagg trapped in a purple, pulsating cage, which he held in the hand not occupied by his cane. "Well, well well. Chat Noir acts as predictably as ever."  
  
"What have you done, you monster?!" She snarled, clenching her yo-yo in her furious grip.  
  
"So I'm a monster again? You two share more than just a bed it seems."  
  
Her blood turned cold at the implication. What does he know about them? What does he mean, dismissing her just as a bedmate— Chat's nighttime lover? Oh, she was _so much more._ "You don't know a thing about me, Hawkmoth. And that's why I'm able to destroy you!"  
  
Hawkmoth laughed as she twirled her yo-yo, creating a shield. "We'll see about that. Nathalie, be a darling and get her for me, will you?”  
  
The hawk shot into the air, flying directly at Marinette. She dive-bombed towards the girl, but Marinette was ready. She swung her shield around, protecting herself from Nathalie. Nathalie pulled up at the last minute, swooping into a wide arc before attacking again.  
  
Almost if by luck, the same time Marinette's yo-yo spiraled out of control, Nathalie flew into it's trajectory. The spinning object ripped through the air, connecting with an ugly-sounding noise to Nathalie's body. The hawk smashed violently into the hard wall, falling lifelessly to the floor.  
  
But Marinette knew she was still alive. She could tell by the way Hawkmoth's lip curled cruelly, and how the hawk's wing twitched— though bent at an awkward angle. The bird struggled to her feet before collapsing again, clearly needing a few more moments to recover from the blow.  
  
"Ugh. As always, I cannot rely on anyone but myself! Come here, Ladybug. I'll deal with you."  
  
"With pleasure!" She cried, and swung her yo-yo in tight circles above her head as she leapt towards him, using that momentum to launch it hard at him.  
  
Of course, Hawkmoth was able to dodge her blow. The yo-yo hit the stone behind him before bouncing uselessly back towards her. She pulled it back into her grasp, barely able to gather her weapon before Hawkmoth made his attack.  
  
Pointing the bottom of his cane towards her, he blasted a pulsating, purple ball of light in her direction, no doubt able to inflict wicked damage. She couldn't make out much more of it than a blur as it flew at her face. Instinctively, her body moved out of its range, bending backwards into a backflip, before she was able to right herself, knees bent and her free hand on the cold stone between her legs, ready to jump back into attack.  
  
Then everything skyrocketed into motion. Marinette dimly recognized the purple light— the one Hawkmoth shot at her— as it ricocheted off the stained glass behind her, only to fly back towards its castor. Hawkmoth shielded himself with Plagg's cage, as it exploded in a bright flash. Adrien spasmed, confusion on his face as he fumbled towards Hawkmoth and the black bundle on the floor, undoubtedly Plagg. He faltered as his green eyes widened, and Marinette felt fear grip her chest as she saw the question in his gaze: _Who do I help?_  
  
Meanwhile, Nathalie finally flew back into action, her concern for her master manifesting into strength. The large hawk flew onto Hawkmoth's shoulder, who had made it back to his feet. He looked absolutely furious with the situation. "Nathalie tells me the cat kwami is still alive, but weak." Marinette sighed a breath of relief. "You're lucky, because later on I shall spare you in thanks by making your death quick. But as for now... let's stop delaying the inevitable. Chat Noir, come to me, and transfer your bond with Plagg to me!”  
  
Adrien moved slowly forward, as if in a fog. "No!" Marinette cried. She grabbed onto him by the waist, tugging him backwards. Yet his body was as hard lead and unforgiving as it refused to relent. She fell backwards onto her tailbone, pain shooting through her as she felt absolutely helpless. Hawkmoth cackled and watched as Nathalie flew after her again. Marinette rolled across the floor to dodge the hawk's sharp beak. Climbing to her feet, she skipped backwards away from Nathalie until her back was flush against the wall, and she had no choice but to swing her yo-yo in a circle, creating a temporary shield as the hawk relentlessly dive-bombed at her.  
  
It was then that finally, a stroke of luck occurred. Marinette was able to catch Nathalie in her yo-yo's string, and once again she was rendered disabled. At the same time, Plagg suddenly jumped upwards, and Marinette realized he was faking his injuries the whole time. Even now, the kwami bore his trademark lax gaze, and shouted: " _Salut_ , Ladybug. Maybe try _Lucky Charm?_ ”  
  
_Oh, right!_ Desperation made her forget that she'd never accomplished it. She had no choice but to try. And now, she was able to transform. The timing was right. It was now, or never.  
  
" _Lucky Charm!_ " She cried, tugging her yo-yo free from Nathalie as she flung it up in the air, an arc of pink light circling her as her yo-yo flashed and summoned the charm. Once the light had subsided, the charm fell into her hands... in the form of a heavy, leather-bound book? She flipped it over to see the cover: _La Belle au bois dormant._ "A copy of _Sleeping Beauty?_ ” she asked aloud. What was she supposed to use this for?  
  
But then the red and black-spotted vision showing her the path zeroed in on one thing: Adrien. Finally, she knew what she had to do. _True love’s kiss…_ She jumped forward, ignoring the pain rippling through her as Nathalie, now free from her yo-yo, clawed at her back. Spinning around, she managed to clip the bird with the book, before smacking her again as she was again airborne. Before Nathalie could circle back, Marinette grabbed Adrien by the wrist. Unable to stop him in his slow shuffle forward, Marinette placed herself in front of him, between him and Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth— unaware of what she was doing— seemed amused and unconcerned by the display. "You cannot stop him now, _princess._ His master has ordered him to do something, and he is bound by my spell to obey, no matter what you or his foolish kwami try to do." But Marinette knew how to _break_ the spell.  
  
Tossing the book to the ground, Marinette squared her shoulders and cupped both of Adrien's cheeks, tugging his head towards her as she kissed him with all the passion she could muster. _Please work,_ she pleaded internally, as Adrien stilled, nonresponsive. Nothing happened. Fearful, Marinette moved to kiss him again. Nothing!  
  
Then, Adrien himself closed the slight distance between their lips to kiss her again. He smirked against her lips. "Missed me?"  
  
"No!" Hawkmoth gasped. He angrily pointed his cane at both of them, but this time, they were both too quick. Adrien pushed Marinette back as he rolled away, leaping back to his feet with cat-like reflexes.  
  
"Plagg, _transforme moi!_ " Marinette grinned as Adrien disappeared and in his place stood Chat Noir, wearing the same, all-black costume he had appeared in all those nights ago at the masquerade— right down to the black cat mask.  
  
Hawkmoth shot another purple orb at Chat, but he was more than quick enough now that his powers were enhanced. Nathalie flew to her master's defense, but she was already too late. As Chat scaled the stone walls, he summoned a black ball in his gloved his as he cried, " _Cataclysm!_ "  
  
With a final attempt to regain control of the situation, Hawkmoth swung his cane at Chat, but it was no use. Chat grabbed the cane with one hand, and it crumbled beneath his fist. And with the second hand, he plowed it through Hawkmoth's chest, spread fingers coming through on the other side of the man's body. An otherworldly black power spread through his body as he fell apart, disappearing into nothingness. Nathalie, seemingly frozen in time, hung midair as she, too, dissolved, black light eating away at her body. Meanwhile, the fluttering akumas around them turned from black to purple to white, the butterflies returning to their natural form as they flew out the window.  
  
" _Miraculous Ladybug,_ " Marinette recited, tossing the book into the air and releasing the last of Hawkmoth's spells. The room was eerily quiet.  
  
Marinette stood stunned as Chat breathed heavily and released his transformation. "Plagg," he gasped as he struggled to find the words to properly thank his kwami, but the little black cat waved his paw in dismissal. Instead, he fell fast asleep into his charge's arms.  
  
Soon after, her transformation was released as well, and Tikki fluttered into her palms as her default, red-and-black kwami form. A smile was on her face. "See? I knew you could do it, Ladybug."  
  
"Ladybug," Adrien breathed, a broad grin on his face. "Marinette as my lady. I like the sound of that."  
  
For once, Marinette could only return his smile. "Chat Noir. _Adrien,_ " she rectified, and she looked on lovingly as Adrien's gaze glimmered with something hopeful. "Adrien as my prince. I like the sound of that."  
  
"We did it, didn't we?"  
  
Marinette couldn't contain herself. She laughed with joy as she pulled her fiancé into a tight hug, squashing their kwamis against their chests, unwillingly dragging them into what only could be described as a group hug. The two lovers clung to each other as tears streamed down their cheeks, weeks (and years, in Adrien's case) of stress finally being released.  


* * *

  
At first, the two did not know what to do with themselves. After Adrien had carefully explained to Marinette that Hawkmoth was, in fact, King Gabriel, the two eventually decided to keep that news to themselves. At least, until the morning, when the castle would certainly be abuzz with questions about their king's disappearance. And then, of course, they'd be swept up with wedding preparations; despite recent events, it was still set to be a week away. Though fearful of it at first, Marinette was no longer afraid of being wed. And after Adrien had blushed and stumbled along asking— nearly in tears— if Marinette would still marry him, Marinette could hardly say no. Not that she'd want to.  
  
Only one real question remained. "Plagg, how were you able to survive Hawkmoth's blast, let alone transform Adri— Chat?" Now that their moment had passed, Marinette found herself again struggling to say his real name.  
  
Plagg seemed unconcerned. "Oh, right. Well, Hawkmoth’s powers seemed to just melt the magical cage I was trapped in— kind of like _Cataclysm._ As soon as the cage was gone, his magic stopped sapping my energy, and all my powers more-or-less returned. I was a bit tired, though, because he hadn't fed me cheese that morning."  
  
Adrien rolled his eyes and Marinette couldn't help but laugh.  
  
It was pitch black by the time the four of them made it downstairs and out of King Gabriel's tower. Adrien held the keys and locked the door leading into the staircase, decidedly shutting it to prevent anyone from going up there anytime soon. He looked at Marinette for approval, who just nodded in agreement. Stuff… had happened up there. Bad, unpleasant stuff. Maybe it was better to just leave it alone for a while, and try to forget.  
  
They returned to Adrien's tower. After fetching a nightgown from her room, Marinette made herself comfortable in one of Adrien's high-backed chairs, as he cleaned himself off in his washroom. Mostly he worked on scrubbing all the grime off his body, not really bothering with the perfumes or the comb. After tossing his dirty clothes into the bin, he went back to his quarters with just a towel wrapped around his waist.  
  
Marinette snapped out of her tired trance as she looked up and blushed. She'd never seen him shirtless before. Even Adrien seemed caught up in the moment, having the dignity to blush as well. An ordinary action suddenly took on different tones now that a girl— a very real and beautiful girl— sat in his room, averting her gaze as to not be impolite.  
  
"You can look," he murmured, after pulling up his cotton pajama bottoms. "As my fianceé, I'm pretty sure you're allowed to look."  
  
Marinette giggled. "Oh, I'm allowed? Who says?"  
  
"Me."  
  
"I don't know. Doesn't this whole, uh, _engagement process,_ say otherwise? That we should remain _pure._ My eyes will be tainted if I see... too.. much..."  
  
Marinette trailed off as Adrien made his way over to her, sitting on the armrest of her chair— still shirtless. He grinned. "Perhaps we should change that."  
  
"... Okay. But how, exactly?"  
  
Adrien placed his damp white towel on Marinette's head, holding it into place gingerly as he framed her face. He smoothed it down before tying it into a knot beneath her chin. "There. That can be your veil, _Ladybug._ You're my wife now."  
  
"Silly prince. How can I be your wife if I haven't even said yes yet?"  
  
"BUT YOU ALREADY SAID— _oh._ Ahem. Right, yes. Forgive me, my lady." Marinette pressed her hand to her forehead out of exasperation as Adrien completely forgot to play along. To "fix" his mistake, Adrien decided to settle dangerously into her lap, his knees holding himself inches above her thighs, placing his eye-level slightly above hers. Marinette shivered. She could see water droplets sliding from his hair, down his neck, pooling along his collarbone. Recognizing she was getting carried away, Marinette jerked herself back to attention. She smirked up at Adrien, appreciating the way his eyes widened and flickered away. He was _so_ bad at trying to play it cool.  
  
"If I remember, Marinette agreed to marry Chat Noir. I've yet to hear of any agreement between Ladybug and Prince A-Adrien," she teased, cursing herself for stuttering over his name. _Again._  
  
"You're still afraid to say my name," he asked aloud, though Marinette knew it was rhetorical. She didn't answer— didn't want to be responsible for the sadness in his eyes.  
  
Adrien reached forward to rub his thumb along her chin and over her makeshift "veil", seemingly lost in thought. Then, "Marinette. Does me being Adrien make you sad?"  
  
"No! The opposite, actually. Both the people that I lo— well, the people that mean the most to me— you're the same person, and that makes me so, so happy. I feel like the luckiest girl on earth." She placed her hand over his. "I'm just still adjusting to it, you know?"  
  
"Marinette, I'm sorry to rush you. But... I finally feel free to be myself. You connect the present me to the me of my past, and as cheesy as it sounds..." He blushed, looking away. "I feel complete when I'm around you. I'm selfish, and want you all to myself. But in exchange, I want you to take all of me, too."  
  
"I will. I promise," she breathed, tugging her prince's gaze back on her. "For now, let's practice."  
  
"Practice?"  
  
“Uh, practice, you know. Saying each other’s names. Since I’m bad at it…”  
  
"Okay," he answered, curiosity drawing him in. He allowed himself to fully settle into her lap, playing it off as completely casual, and acting like he totally wasn't straddling her upper-thighs. Nope.  
  
"So, Prince Adri...en. You called me here for a reason?"  
  
"Yes," he purred, catching on quickly. "I have a question for you, Ladybug."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Ladybug."  
  
"Adrien," she answered, holding his gaze resolutely. Her fiancé melted under her gaze.  
  
"For a long time, I've been in love with you, Ladybug. I've fallen in love with your spots."  
  
"Wh—"  
  
"But I've come to realize that what really matters are not the spots on your costume, but the spot you've taken up in my heart."  
  
"Adrien, so help me God, I'll change my mind about this marriage—"  
  
"Okay!" He laughed, giving in. But as he kissed her, he could feel her smiling, too. That wasn't fair. It wasn't a proper kiss, so he had to kiss her again. And again. And then, possibly one more time...  
  
Marinette slid her hands around Adrien's back, fingertips skimming over his shoulder blades. His skin was smooth and hot under her hands. She pushed him forward until their chests were flush together, lips parted slightly as they exchanged a kiss. Adrien bit along Marinette's bottom lip, and she saw lights behind her eyelids. Her toes curled on the foot rest as her back sank further into the plush chair.

“A-Adrien, I can’t practice saying your name if you keep kissing me…”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Nooo-oo-o, I’m serious,” she cried, pushing his face away as he tried to kiss her again. She giggled as his roaming hands tickled at her sides. “What if at the wedding, I can’t even say your name?”

“That’ll never happen.”

“But it could,” she argued, losing coherency as he kissed her jawline and then her neck and collarbone, being _completely_ distracting. “Then, if it does, it’ll be all your fault, you naughty kitty!”

“Our guests will understand…” Adrien bit the soft flesh where her neck met her collarbone, and she gasped at the sensation, unsure if it hurt her or made her insides melt— or both.

Then, almost as suddenly as he started, Adrien stopped. He kissed her tenderly over the grudging teeth marks he had left behind. He had gotten carried away, but he felt no regrets. If anything, it made him even more anxious to tie the knot already, so they could be even… closer.

Playing off his impromptu anxieties as just an eagerness to play along, Adrien crawled out of her lap and brought the both of them to their feet. Marinette was unsteady, a little wobbly as she still felt like her soul had been sucked out by Adrien’s lips, still yet to return. But then he eskimo-kissed her, and her cheeks roared back to life.

“Ladybug, will you take me, Chat Noir, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward as your partner-in-crime, partner-in-fighting-crime, forever?”

The damp towel turned veil slid down on her forehead, obscuring her vision and covering part of her face. She covered the rest of it up with the hands she tugged free from Adrien’s, disguising the ugly emotion written all over her face. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel in this moment. All she knew was she was sniffling with a vengeance, and the fact that she was getting this choked up over a fake wedding ceremony meant she was _doomed_ when it came to the actual one.

“Of course,” she answered. Adrien removed the towel and brushed her hair back, cradling her head to his chest. He held her, unmoving for a while. When they both started to fall asleep standing up, Adrien decided it was best to just go to bed; he guided her to his bed and they collapsed in a tangle of limbs, exhaustion finally having settled in.  


* * *

  
The next morning, they both woke up to a start. Somebody had slammed open Adrien’s bedroom door and was making the _biggest_ fuss.

“I arrive one week early, and this is what I come to! Oh, Mari. I said go after him, but I didn’t mean like this…”

Marinette shot right up out of the bed, scrambling to right herself. She felt hyper-aware of how her hair was a mess, and how drool had dried on her cheek. Thankfully, she was still wearing all her clothes?

But that wasn’t even the most shocking of it all. Because right in front of her stood no other than Alya herself. “Alya!” Marinette cried, rushing towards her best friend. She jumped to meet her and allowed herself to be crushed in return, her friend lifting her off the ground as she smothered her.

“Marinette, I can’t believe you,” she chastised, squeezing the princess one last time for good measure before putting her down. “You— and Chat—!”

“Relax, Alya, nothing happened,” Adrien reassured from his spot on the bed, where he still laid, unmoving. “Marinette and I were talking late last night, and she got tired, so I just let her sleep in my bed.”

“It’s true,” Marinette agreed quickly. Because it was true. They were up late, and they were talking, sometimes. He just left out the other things, for now.

Alya looked unconvinced, but eventually gave in. “Alright, you two. What you do privately isn’t up to me to decide.”

“Alya!”

“But,” she continued, eyeing Marinette, “what you do  _publically_ , however _is, in fact, for me to decide.” She grinned deviously. “Which is why I’ve arrived to plan your wedding! At the advice of Nino, of course.”_

Adrien’s knight— as well as his personal advisor and best friend— suddenly waved from out in the hall. The two hadn’t noticed him until then. Marinette felt like shriveling into nothingness out of embarrassment, having him see her like this.

“Ineedtogogetreadybye!” She cried, retreating back into the safety of her bedchamber down the hall. She slammed the door behind herself as Nino and Adrien exchanged a confused look. Alya saluted them before chasing after Marinette, with a bag in hand, and a plan in mind.

As if a thought suddenly occurred to him, Nino got a very confused look on his face. “Oh, yeah. By the way, Adrien, I was wondering. Where’d you go these past two weeks?”

Adrien had just woken up, but already, he wanted to go back to sleep. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes with a sigh. “Call the court and all the knights down to the main hall. Actually, you know what? Call everyone, including all the staff members. It’s a long story, and everyone needs to hear it.”

Despite whatever was waiting for him, Adrien figured his day was going to be significantly better than Marinette’s. He could hear her screams of protest from down the hall. Just at the thought of her, he felt himself cheer up. He’d be strong— for her. And not just because she was his princess— but because now, she was going to be his queen, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alya as a wedding planner??? Tbh I think she'd be mad good at it. WHO KNOWS.
> 
> As a self-promo: I've started another fic: [Allegretto Grazioso](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5993572/chapters/13772014). It's shorter than this one (probably only going to be about 5,000-6,000 words when finished!) and is basically just a fic about pianos. And cats, playing pianos. Naughty cats. Cats that probably should be watched at all times
> 
> ... Anyways. I've actually played piano for 10 years, so I couldn't resist writing a fic about Adrien playing one! Check it out if you're interested :'')


	9. et bien plus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. sorry for the update being delayed by 1+ month. i was in the hospital for a while due to significant health problems. thankfully, i'm out now, and doing somewhat better. but it also meant on my priorities list, la belle et sa bête was pretty low! i had to work on my recovery first and foremost. then, when i finally could work, i felt a lot of pressure to live up to my former standards-- which, i'm still not sure if i met. sorry. i just wanted to get this out there FINALLY, and couldn't worry about semantics if it was ever going to get out into the world. thank you for sticking with me <3
> 
> note: i know that marinette / adrien never really had a proper coronation ceremony, but i kinda glossed over it for the sake of time and also flow of the plot. i felt the wedding was more important than the coronation, and i hope you agree :)
> 
> also note: this chapter is SFW and skips over the "consummation" of their marriage.

Marinette made him nervous. Not in a bad way, but in a her-presence-turns-him-into-goo, kind of way. Even now— when she passed him early in the morning, some sort of planner pressed to her chest— well, he felt his heart flutter, and nearly dropped his spoon into the oatmeal he was eating. If he were standing, he was sure his knees would've buckled. "Excuse me," he croaked weakly, attempting to make his impromptu leave from the dining hall less weird. Nino and several of his aids simply smirked behind his back. _The prince was certainly transparent in his affections._   
  
Ironically enough, even after his coronation ceremony the previous day, everyone still persisted to refer to him as the prince. Perhaps people just weren't ready to accept the former king's passing. Or perhaps they still saw Adrien as the child he was.   
  
If anything, now that Hawkmoth was gone, the kingdom could breathe a sigh of relief. Formalities seemed redundant now, after all. Chat Noir faded with the former king's last gasp of air. Marinette had helped encourage him to reclaim his "dead" name. People were more than eager to use his proper name, Prince Adrien. _King_  Adrien, someday.   
  
The court took the news of King Gabriel's true identity as expected. Many doubted him initially, unable to comprehend that the scourge of the kingdom was none other than Gabriel himself. But eventually, they accepted Adrien's words. Those intimately acquainted with the royal family softened first. Now that the fear of being punished by the king was gone, many admitted the bad treatment they received from Gabriel— how he never saw them as good enough. Compared to the downright angelic humility of the prince, they quickly came to their senses. Adrien was never the type to lie— why would this be any exception?   
  
Marinette snorted when Adrien relayed this story to her. "Does a different version of you exist? If I remember correctly, you had no problem lying to me."   
  
"Ma— Mari— _my love,"_ he pleaded, switching tactics. But she ignored him until he actually dropped to his knees and started kissing her hands— then, she couldn't pretend to be upset anymore.   
  
It was that night the two of them discovered just how many kisses it took before they literally passed out in exhaustion, one on top of the other.   
  
Now— on his way out the dining hall— Adrien roamed the hallways, aimlessly wandering, at a loss for what to do with himself. He wanted to see Marinette, but couldn't help but feel like a distraction. The wedding was... tomorrow. He knew she was busy. Guests from all over had started arriving in waves, and they were expected to entertain them. Poor Marinette— as if she didn't already have enough on her mind. Tying the knot so suddenly in front of hundreds of people had to be frightening... even if she confessed to no longer being hesitant to marry him— a fact that made his heart throb lovingly in his chest— he had a feeling that didn't exempt her from being afraid of professing her love for him like /that/. Her kingdom was small. And while he was used to large crowds and attention, she was not.   
  
Maybe that was why she had been so tense around him for the past few days?   
  
Dejected and confused, Adrien longed to be with his princess more and more. He wished the world could just go away for a little while and leave the two of them be.    
  
"Hellooo, Adriekins!" Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. He turned slowly, coming face to face with Chloé, and her aid, Sabrina. The petit redhead seemed different, and strangely enough, so did Chloé. They both were... glowing?   
  
"Chloé," he returned, forcing a small smile. "I thank you for your presence at our wedding..."   
  
"Would you believe me if I said I was actually happy for you?" She cried, embracing him softly, without her usual ferociousness. "We both have found our other half, now!"   
  
"Both of us?" He repeated, confused. Wait a minute— she didn't mean _he_ was her other half, did she? Because—   
  
"Yes! Crazily enough, even I make mistakes sometimes. I thought you were the one, but definitely not. I was too blind to see the one always by my side...!" Sabrina blushed deeply. Adrien raised an eyebrow, feeling desperately out of the loop. Oh well. Sometimes with Chloé, it was better not to think about things too deeply— just smile and nod.   
  
"Well, in that case, I'm happy for you, too."   
  
"Thank you, Prince Adrien," Sabrina whispered softly, as Chloé tugged her away by the hand. "And sorry for the problems we might've caused by revealing your identity before Princess Marinette was ready..."   
  
Adrien smiled and waved as the two retreated. Oddly enough, he bore no ill will for them over that. In a way, they triggered an impossible growth for the couple. If Marinette hadn't run off, none of this would've worked out.   
  
As he continued to wander through the halls, he was greeted by many other couples. Some he recognized— others, not so much. Some noteables among them were Prince Ali of Kowar, a personal friend of Adrien's, Prime Minister Damocles, who hailed from a democratic nation far north, Lila, a cunning actress whose true identity is unknown, who gained fame for her role as Volpina in the Italian Opera— and Master Fu, a highly respected mage. He was certainly surprised by their appearance; he hadn't expected them to travel so far just to see the wedding.    
  
As the day drew to a close, Marinette's friends and family arrived as per schedule in a party of lapulent carriages. Because of the small size of the court, even some servants were allowed to attend. Besides, the Dupains were never discriminatory towards those of lower class. Nearly everyone adored their rulers in the Dupain Kingdom.   
_  
_ _"Wode xingan!"_ Marinette's mother cried, embracing her daughter fiercely. _"Nihao ma? Adrien hao ma?"_ _  
_   
「我的心肝！你好吗？Adrien好吗？」   
  
"Mother, you embarrass me! I'm good, he's good— we're good, honestly," Marinette protested between laughing, unable to hold off her mother.    
  
"She is very excited to see you," King Thomas Dupain mused. "She's talked of seeing you again all the time since you've left."   
  
Adrien was nervous to see his in-laws. As kind as they seemed, he couldn't help but be afraid. They were true royals— he still felt like an imposter, masquerading around  as a fake king. He shifted in his formal wear, his high collar suddenly feeling far too restricting.   
  
"My son. I hear you're a king now," King Thomas addressed him, heartily clapping him on the shoulder.   
  
"Yes. My father's passing was sudden, but expected. The dark magic consumed him..." Marinette and him decidedly left out the part where he used /Cataclysm/ to destroy his own father. Some things, no one would ever find out about that night.   
  
But King Thomas' wise gaze pierced his skin, and he felt oddly exposed. Adrien started wondering if he could see through his half-truth. Then, the king pulled Adrien in for a hug. "I'm sorry. It must've been a difficult week for you."   
  
Marinette felt an immeasureable amount of love for her family as she looked on at their embrace. She was truly luckily that these were the people she was surrounded with. And, if Adrien started sniffling into Tom's chest, overwhelmed by the fatherly love he'd been welcomed into— well, the four of them decided to keep that little detail to themselves.   
  


* * *

  
  
Marinette, despite her best to appear otherwise, was freaking out.   
  
Now— as she sat at the table with her fiancé and their small group of trusted family and staff, Marinette couldn't help but confront the overwhelming anxiety stewing within. It only seemed to grow after she identified it, however. Suddenly, the room seemed much too small for breathing.   
  
Quickly and quietly she dismissed herself,    
with the promise of returning soon after she got a little air. Adrien looked up at her with concern, even pushing the wedding papers aside. _So much paperwork,_ Marinette bemoaned. _There's so much to it..._   
  
"Mari? Are you oka—?" He began, but trailed off as she, seemingly unaware that he was talking to her in the first place, pushed open the double French doors into the garden. Tom and Sabine shared a knowing look, and Nino made a face towards him that made him feel stupid. "What? Me?"   
  
"With all due respect, your kingliness, if you don't go chase after her, I'll cancel the wedding for you," Nino casually threatened, waving his hand with indifference. Adrien's new top advisor did have a convincing argument; besides, he had been desperately hoping for a chance to be alone with her again, just for a little while.   
  
"The roses are in full bloom," he noted aloud. Marinette hadn't heard him follow her, and started when he suddenly spoke.   
  
"My memorial to you featured roses." She countered. He moved forward, close enough to where he was able to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.    
  
"What's eating you away?" He asked softly, resting his fingers lightly on her waist as he draped an arm around her. He used this leverage to pull her in and she relinquished with a sigh. "I can nearly feel you overthinking."   
  
Marinette offered a weak smile. "I'm okay. At least, I will be, once this is behind us."   
  
"You make it sound like a chore."   
  
"Well? Isn't it?" She leaned into his touch and rested her cheek on his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence. It was easy to relax when he seemed to radiate heat. But then, on a serious note, cleared her throat, forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Adrien. How... how I _feel_  isn't going to change because of a ceremony. I just want everyone to leave so I can spend time with you. Or so I thought. But seeing my parents has confused me."   
  
"What do you mean? You're not sure... if you like me anymore?"   
  
"No! No. The opposite. If anything, I'm more certain what I'm feeling is real, because I want my parents to leave so I can be alone with you." Marinette said, hiding her red face in his chest. Her voice was muffled by the fabric as she muttered: "It's frightening, and makes me feel more than a little guilty."   
  
Adrien grinned and felt his heart skip a bit. While he felt partially bad for her anguish, hearing those words worked like a charm at whisking away his own worries. Now he wanted to do the same for her.    
  
"Marinette." He began. "I know it's strange, this situation we're in. What we've learned and overcome, lately. Going through life thinking I was dead, only to find out later I was a prince kidnapped by my evil mage for a father..." He laughed. "It's crazy. But it's /real/. And so are we, whatever that is. I'm here for you. We can be scared together, okay?"   
  
Marinette felt her concerns partially melt. Nothing could completely thaw the anxiety lodged in her chest, but Adrien was doing a good job. She couldn't help but feel herself smile at his cheeky grin. "Okay. If you say so."   
  
After a few more calming moments together, the two returned to planning with their wedding council. Except— only momentarily. Alya and Queen Sabine shooed them out after just a few short minutes— allowing them to return sometime in the late afternoon just so they could have tea— and then sending them back on their way.   
  
"Resting right now is more important for you two," they insisted.   
  
That night, for the first time in a while, Marinette felt alone, sleeping in her own bed. When she realized what— or more accurately, _whom_ — she was craving, she groaned aloud and rolled over, forcing herself to sleep.   
  


* * *

  
The wedding was every bit as extravagant as Marinette hoped and feared. While she did have a hand in designing the flower bouquets and handmaidens' dresses, nothing could have prepared her for the appearance Alya was able to conjure. Beautiful white and gold flowers, the colors of the Dupain Court, mixed and minged with clusters of baby's breath and purple roses, courtesy of the Noir Kingdom's gardens. White cloths and tapestries waved in the breeze alongside the court flags and aisle, lined with row after row of white chairs. They led up to a white arch, complete with flowers and a silken carpet underfoot.   
  
But Marinette's biggest surprise came from the unexpected gifts she received before the wedding.   
  
"For you, Marinette. Something old," Tikki squeaked, holding out the Ladybug earrings. "Wear them with pride!"   
  
"Something blue," Sabrina offered, holding out a crown of butterfly pea flowers. "I made the reception tea from the flowers, too!"   
  
"And something new!" Alya said, pushing Mylène forward.   
  
"Mylène! You're here?"   
  
"My papa's tavern is closed for the wedding," she whispered by way of explanation. "I wanted to be here. Oh, I, uh, hope my gift is okay. It was Alya's idea."   
  
Alya wiggled her eyebrows. "Say it."   
  
Mylène looked up nervously. "Our friendship?"   
  
Marinette laughed happily and gathered the shorter girl into a hug. Soon enough, Mylène joined in, forgetting her nerves. "Of course that's enough. More than enough, really, The greatest something new I could ask for."   
  
After the last of her friends were forced out of her bedchambers, the stylists took up Sabrina's flower crown and wove it into her hair. Her hair was pulled off her forehead and twisted into a sidebraid, before tapering back into a loose bun. Twin curls framed her face and ears as the ladybug earrings sparkled against her pale skin, contrasting greatly with the petals and the blue color eyes.    
  
They had her all ready to go with even her underpinnings on and tightened when the door suddenly burst open, a servant heavily breathing as they hunched over, clearly exhausted from being in a hurry. "My lady! It appears the carriage containing your shipment of dresses from your kingdom was ransaked!"   
  
Marinette gasped. She had sent for that shipment because it contained a white dress she had modified to become her wedding gown! As it was, the weather had delayed it. She was certain it would arrive just in time. And now...   
  
Almost as quickly as the first one arrived, a second servant appeared at the door. "Prince Adrien has a solution. But, uh, my lady, he felt it would be improper to see you, so he sent this letter."   
  
Marinette opened the unsealed letter immediately, wasting no time.   
_  
Love,   
  
I heard about the shipments and am sorry about your dresses. But if you go up to the fourth floor and the second room on the left— across from my father's tower, you'll find...   
_   


* * *

  
"I can't believe it fits perfectly!"   
  
"Perhaps this was destined to happen after all, Princess."   
  


* * *

  
Marinette waited inside the castle walls, breathing deeply, in and out. Just beyond the sitting room she waited in— outside the French doors, beyond the tapering pathway, into the large, garden courtyard— were all her guests, and her soon-to-be husband, Adrien. King Adrien. Queen Marinette.  
  
She took another deep breath.  
  
Manon, the flower girl, was signaled, and she went ahead. That meant Marinette was next.  
  
"You'll be alright, my dear," King Thomas promised, patting her on the arm. "You're my daughter, after all."   
  
That she was. But she was also Ladybug, too. "I know."  
  
Walking down the aisle made Marinette feel as if she'd stepped into a dream. Everyones eyes were on her, but for once, she didn't mind. She reminded herself that they were all here to see her, and so it was only natural they were staring...  
  
She took a shuddery breath and focused her vision ahead. She saw the flower petals on the silk carpet, the bouquets wrapped around flag stands and pressed into the back of the chairs... she saw the arch, the bishop officiating... _Adrien._ The way he looked at her was indescribable.  
  
It took what felt like a century to arrive by his side. But once she did, she couldn't help but stare. In his stately attire— lapels pressed to his decorated chest, crown firmly rested at the crest of his forehead— Marinette blinked heavily several times to reassure herself it was real. It was like she'd found herself suddenly at a grown-up version of the dress-up games they'd play as children, only this time, Adrien was the royalty instead of her.  
  
"Marinette," Adrien asked softly. He fell to his knee and kissed her gloved hand, gently. "You look lovely in that dress."  
  
She nodded jerkily. "Uh, yes. Thank you, by the way."  
  
Adrien laughed and stood back up. "My father was more of a romantic than he let on, I suppose, keeping my mother's wedding gown all these years." Marinette was apt to agree, when suddenly, Adrien sent her a look that said _I'll explain it better later._ Accustomed to just agreeing by now, Marinette smiled wider at his wink. There always seemed to be more to the story when the Agreste family was involved.  
  
The bishop cleared his throat. "Blessings and merry meet. Gentle lords and ladies, we are here today to join the fair Princess Marinette Dupain and the noble King Adrien Agreste together. They have asked you here to share in their joy, and to declare their love for one another before you as a community."  
  
King, are you here this day in pledged troth of your own free will and choice?"  
  
Adrien beamed at the ancient lines. "Yes, Father."  
  
"Princess, are you here this day in pledged troth of your own free will and choice?"  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
"If any one can show just cause, why they may not be joined together, let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time." Silence. "There being no objection to this marriage let us continue."  
  
With a pregnant pause, the bishop waited for two servants to walk up the aisle carrying a golden blade on a red silk pillow. They handed it over to the bishop, who held it gingerly between the couple.  
  
"Swear you now, on this sacred blade, that there is no reason known to you that this union should not proceed."  
  
"I do so swear," Adrien professed.  
  
The bishop turned to Marinette. "Is there any reason known to you why this partnership should not be made?"  
  
"There is none."  
  
The bishop continued with the vows, both Adrien and Marinette answering in turn. At one point, Alya and Nino ascended the aisle, each carrying the ring on a matching red pillow. The two royalty nervously exchanged rings, Marinette nearly fumbling it at one point. The bishop's eyes crinkled with amusement.   
  
"Receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my trust, my respect and my love for you," they both said.  
  
"Very well. We will now do the ancient Celtic hand fastening ritual where 3 cords will be placed over their joined hands. King Adrien will now place the Burgundy cord to symbolize romance, partnership, and happiness.  
  
"Queen Marinette will now place the Ivory cord which stands for peace, sincerity, and devotion.  
  
"Lady Alya will now place the gold cord which represents unity, prosperity, and longevity.  
  
"And Sir Nino will now tie the cords together to signify the tying of the knot." Marinette felt her heart beat out of her chest. Was this it? Was it finally official?Certainly there was no turning back now...  
  
"You have pledged troth of your own free will and sworn upon the Sword. You have exchanged rings and been bound together by the ritual of the cords. By the power vested in my by the realm I now pronounce you King Adrien and fair Queen Marinette, husband and wife."  
  
This was it.  
  
Adrien and Marinette leaned forward at the same time, exchanging a chase kiss. In comparison to the kisses they'd been doing, it felt far too innocent for the intensity of moment; yet still, Marinette felt herself blushing at the moment. Her husband's eyes were sparkling, like a cat whose eyes were on the prize, caught in the middle of a hunt. _We did it,_ he mouthed, just as the crowd exploded in cheer.  
  
The music started up again as they took turns waving to the crowd, returning back down the aisle. People clapped and cheered and some even heartily yelled, the momentous significance sinking in. Finally they could all move past the terror of the former crowned king, and his chokehold on the kingdom. The newlyweds represented a new era of peace, balance, and— most importantly— hope.  
  
At the after party, the two danced and ate and drank until their throats and stomachs protested, and their feet ached as if they'd walked thousands of steps instead of just the lucid, gentle circles of two lovers, caught in a slow dance.  
  


* * *

  
As the evening finally drew to a close, Marinette and Adrien disappeared into a side room and found their way upstairs to Adrien's bedchamber.   
  
"Are we going to stay here?" Marinette asked conversationally, trying to quell the nerves that threatened to choke her. "Or should we move into a larger room together?"   
  
Adrien shrugged, placing his crown on one of his chests and stripping off his jacket, vest, and undershirt. Marinette momentarily looked away before realizing she was allowed to look now. She slowly returned her gaze, drinking in all she could see— from his taut back muscles, to the faded scars accenting his sides. As he pulled his shirt over his head and his muscles flexed, Marinette felt herself almost pass out. This was _too much!_ She resisted the urge to flee, and wondered if all newlyweds felt this way about each other.   
  
"I think for now, we can stay here. We could always move quarters at the end of the week, once our honeymoon is over."   
  
"Honeymoon. Oh, honeymoon," she repeated, remembering finally they were exempt from all leaderly duties for one week. She walked to the window, which overlooked the front of the castle. She could see all the carriages departing, though the gardens were still lit up expectantly. It made her realize how alone they finally were, but she felt no relief like expected— only fear. But why? Wasn't this what she wanted?   
  
Adrien seemed to pick up on her mood. "Mari, my love. Are you okay?"   
  
She jumped. "Yes! Totally fine! Now help me get out of my dress, p-please!"   
  
Shirtless, Adrien walked over with an inquisitive look on his face. He didn't push Marinette further... only listened, removing the pinnings and laced up back as asked. It was complicated, of course. Five minutes passed before Marinette was finally free in just her white petticoat and tight camisole. She was covered up, but felt completely exposed.   
  
"Marinette," Adrien began, at the same time Marinette said "A-adrien."   
  
"You go first," Adrien insisted.   
  
Marinette sighed heavily. Then, "I'm worried I'll mess this up."   
  
"Mess what up?" He questioned, as Marinette sent him a scathing look. He quickly backtracked. "You mean like... us? Or—"   
  
"The- the— _first night together,_ my stupid precious kitty!"   
  
Adrien laughed. "I'm sensing mixed messages here. But okay, okay, I'm serious— _relax,"_ he insisted, leading her by the hand to his bed. He made her lay down with her head in his lap, as he freed her hair from the flower crown and bun, running a hand through her locks. He did this for a while until Marinette dared close her eyes, letting herself be calmed by the rhythmic motion. "My lady, there is no pressure to perform. It's just me, the stupid kitty."   
  
"I didn't mean—"   
  
"I know what you meant. It's a compliment, really. Because I'm your stupid kitty," he purred, dipping his head down until their foreheads touched. He licked her cheek and Marinette yelped in surprise, shoving him away as he retaliated with tickling her sides through her petticoat. She laughed, wheezing, able to get him in the side of his face with a pillow before he held his hands up in surrender, retreating. They were both red in the face with happiness.   
  
Then Adrien kissed her. As he did, he loosened her petticoat, eventually slipping it down her sides to her calves, where Marinette shrugged it off. He took off his trousers, and they sat cross-legged in front of each other, finally stripped down to just their undergarments. Before Marinette could panic, Adrien started kissing down her neck. She felt oddly calm.   
  
He continued like this, distracting her with kisses as he worked off her camisole, and took off his own undergarments. His hands snaked around her sides and pressed into the dimples on her lower back, and he rubbed reassuring circles into her tense skin until she finally relaxed. She felt completely calm in his hands, she realized as her eyes finally opened to meet  his as they temporarily broke apart. They shone with a kind of hunger that Marinette felt irresistably tempting.   
  
So Marinette gave in.   
  


* * *

  
The next morning, Marinette woke up to Adrien wrapped preciously around her side. It would seem he was just as cuddly as a cat, if not worse.   
  
Marinette laughed softly as she pried him off her to go to the washroom. She freshened up, going through her morning routine with a sated calmness. She was content. She saw her own eyes stare back at her in the mirror, but they seemed different. Wiser and more grown up, somehow. She felt ready to tackle the world.   
  
Of course, that was when she decided to slip back into bed and snuggle into her husband. Perhaps for just today, she'd work on conquering the kitty that snuck into her heart somehow. "I love you," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I love you so much."   
  
His eyes flew open, no longer pretending to be still asleep. His smile was ridiculous, all teeth and no edges, like a boy drunk on love. Marinette smiled back at him— it was contagious. "I love you too. Oh, so much more."   
  
So much more indeed.


	10. péché

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand years late, but here it is. Remember to use protection, kiddos! Adrien here uses a sealskin condom that only the super rich could afford in that time period.

Nothing made Marinette feel more exposed (in both the physical and mental sense) than stripping down naked in the moonlight in her husband's bed. She paused at that thought, letting the weirdness of it sink in. Because while those words shouldn't exist in that order, Marinette can't complain— only go with the flow of things. Simply sit cross-legged as the crisp, white bed sheets cover up both her and Adrien's nether regions. Let herself be drunk in by Adrien's hungry eyes, from the waist up. She shivered from a combination of exposure to the chilled air and the looks Adrien was giving her— goosebumps peppering her skin and hardening her nipples until they were perky and lovely. She felt... desirable, for once.

 

Adrien— ever so hesitantly— reached forward to touch, and was granted permission by the slight affirmative noise in the back of her throat. His calloused hands met her soft flesh and slid up and down the curves with all the tactile ease of an artist shaping his masterpiece. Marinette allowed a sharp intake of break, but stayed mostly quiet otherwise, not sure when noise-making would become... appropriate. His hands didn't wander to her breasts until nearly half a minute of silence, during which Marinette was going insane. _What is he thinking right now?_ She wondered, but then she felt his hands fully over her nipple and all her thoughts were ripped from her mind.

 

_When did this start feeling so right,_ she mulled over absently, pulling him flush against her chest. His hands got awkwardly sandwiched between their bodies until he removed them in favor of rubbing circles on her shoulder blades and lower back. Marinette kissed him lazily, letting her mouth open in a slow, wet heat— a kiss of lovers unconcerned, with all the time in the world. She laughed when their teeth connected instead of tongues, but Adrien looked... dismayed. "You tell me to relax, but can't even follow your own advise?" She teased, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Keep up, kitty."

 

"You're perfect," he blurted, and kissed her again. And again. This time, with more than just the languid movements before— there was a passion in his kisses that left Marinette breathless and forced her to speed up hers. Meanwhile, Adrien groped at her hips, lifting her closer. She squeaked and paused. That was… unexpected. She could do two things: she could allow him to pull her into his lap, or she could brace herself with her knees and kneel above him, giving her the upper hand. Nervously, she fiddled with the back of his hair— a habit Adrien mirrored as he kissed her neck and tucked her loose hair behind her ears. "We can go slower," he murmured in her ear, and she shivered. Her kitty always seemed to know what to say before she even knew what she wanted.

 

And as much as she wanted this, and, well— him, she was afraid. So, she decided to trust him. "I'm ready," she answered, breathless, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and guiding his mouth to her neck, as she crouched forward. He eagerly advanced, sucking spots into the soft skin as she took shaky inhales. He bit her and lavished the spot with his tongue, making her flush and squirm. Her knees momentarily weakened and she fell down into his lap— before springing back up on her own. She was not ready for _that_. Was that... _normal?_ Adrien, bless that boy, kept going as if his erection totally didn't just brush against her.

 

Suddenly tired of the pace, Adrien flipped Marinette on her back and hovered over her on the bed. He looked determined, but cautious. "This okay?" Marinette nodded.

 

"Does that— does it hurt?" She blurted, awkwardly waving her hand. As recognition failed to show on his face, she groaned and covered up her eyes with her hands. "Nevermind!"

 

Then Adrien realized... the change in positioning meant that she had a full view of his bo—

 

"I'm fine!" He yelled, and she nodded vigorously. Alarm mirrored on both their faces. "Gods, please, let's just pretend—"

 

"—I didn't ask that question." She finished for him.

 

_"Exactly."_

 

"Okay. No problem. Already forgot. Alreadya-aa- ah, okay. Wow. That is HAPPENING WOW I—"

 

"Marinette," Adrien moaned her name, distracting her from that line of thought and making the girl five shades more aroused than she thought possible as her lover continued to kiss down her chest. His fingers pressed her hipbones into the bed as she rolled in his grasp, his mouth moving pleasantly over her nipple. "Marinette," he repeated, and every time it was like a static shock went through her. _Who knew a name could have so much power?_ She thought weakly.

 

Adrien saw it as his turn to pamper the girl. He loved the feeling of control he had over her; he loved watching her squirm and whimper at his touch, and the way her hands tangled in his hair. In the moonlight, her already pale skin seemed to glow in contrast to his tanned, French skin, and he felt as if he were in the presence of an angel. He treated her as such, worshipping every inch of her body and absorbing this girl as if she were a temple and he, a mere believer. Her name continued to spill from his mouth like a prayer.

 

His descent stopped when he made it... there. Now that her undergarments were removed, he had a clear view of everything. He didn't know a whole lot about female anatomy, but he knew what was supposed to feel _good_  from the little snippets of vulgarity Nino and the other knights crooned. Hesitantly, he raised two fingers towards her entrance, rubbing over a spot just above the pink folds. Marinette moaned and cried "t-there," when he reached a certain point, so he focused he ministrations in slow, circular motions. He watched as her leg jerked up and down when he rubbed over the nub, and he shivered at her reaction, pre cum beading at the head of his dick. He groaned and palmed at himself with his free hand, but slowly, with great restrain. He wouldn’t last long otherwise.

 

Growing impatient, he licked a line experimentally along her inner thighs. Her legs clenched and hips thrust forward, until his face was nearly shoved against her entrance. Taking a cue, he wrapped his hand around her hip to steady her and licked her clit while two of his fingers pressed into her. She was slick and he easily slid in, meeting no resistance. He curled his fingers and she cried out, thighs trembling. "A-Adrien, I'm, ah, close—"

 

By way of answering, he sped up his movements, licking a long strip up from her opening to her clit. He sucked deeply as he curled his fingers a final time, and with a whine, Marinette came in waves, clenching and unclenching around her lover’s fingertips. He felt shivers up his spine and stared at her face hungrily. He wanted to feel more. So much more. But he was patient, and put her comfort first. He didn't want to put the cart before the horse and try something too ambitious right from the start.

 

"Adrien, come here," she beckoned, and she drew him up, no longer conscious of their nudity. She kissed him deeply and tasted the uniqueness of herself on his tongue, letting herself be washed over with contentment. She emptied her minds of all thoughts besides Adrien's touch, Adrien's smell, Adrien's taste, Adrien's...

 

"So. Now what, kitty?" Her grin was crooked and Adrien's eyes widened.

 

"Where has my sweet and bashful little lady gone? Who is this temptress that has crawled into my bed? Not that I'm complaining," he rectified, upon being slapped playfully by Marinette. The gleam in her eyes reminded him that he was still painfully hard. He rutted against her hip, groaning, thankful for the relief provided— but it wasn't enough. What he wanted, he couldn't verbalize.

 

"Come on, tell me what you want."

 

"..."

 

"Hmm? Cat got your tongue?" Marinette kissed his open mouth, sucking on his tongue, lips, and neck until Adrien was spluttering and red in the face.

 

"Mari, you're k-killing me," he moaned, unable to stop himself from grinding into her thighs. Marinette spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips until she was anchored to him. His dick rubbed over her entrance, and he stifled a groan. Even Marinette, slowly but surely, was finding herself being turned on again. “I, ah—Mari. I _want to be inside of you_ , Marinette."

 

"I know," she said, and pressed herself closer. "So do it."

 

He didn't have to be told twice. Eagerly, he fit two fingers inside of her. She was impossibly wet and pliant under his touch, so he added a third finger quickly. She adjusted after a few moments of heavy breathing and twitching. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't pleasurable yet by any means.

 

Ever the cautious, worrisome lover, Adrien played with her for a moment, ignoring his boner in favor of listening to Marinette's sighs. He wanted this to feel good for both of them.

 

Finally, she told him to get on with it. "It's okay. I feel ready."

 

He laid down on his back, allowing her the control this time. Now she could decide a tempo that was comfortable for her. Facing him, she positioned herself carefully— sinking onto the head of his cock slow enough to adjust. She breathed deeply, and Adrien tried to act like he wasn't close to losing it right then and there.

 

Undulating her hips, Marinette rolled slightly further down his dick, sinking deeper and deeper with each unsteady gasp. It felt warm and /real/, and she got caught up in the feeling. "Adrien," she moaned, and then she reached halfway down his cock and slid back up and down, down.

 

Grabbing Adrien's hand, she put his grasp over her nipple to touch as she finally fell to the base of his dick. She sat still for a little bit, feeling him fill her up with his heated presence. Then, slowly, she started to move up, before sliding back down with a gasp. Meanwhile, Adrien teased at her chest with one hand and bit back his moans with another, burying the noises in his palm. Marinette experimentally rose higher and bounced back down harder, and then faster, until she had a steady rhythm going and Adrien panting beneath her.

 

They were both a mess, and couldn’t last long. It was all too new and fresh to them. The sensation of being fucked and fucking was overwhelming, better than anything they’d dreamed. Especially for Adrien, who’d yet to cum. His balls tightened in warning as he got closer and closer to cumming. Desperately, he grabbed Marinette’s hips and thrust into her, speeding up the pace until he thought he’d pass out from the exertion. “Marinette,” he cried between moans, “I-I’m gonna cum.”

 

“Then do it,” Marinette challenged, determined. That sent him over the edge. His vision went black as his hips slammed forward and he came deep inside her in waves. Marinette stilled as she felt his dick twitch inside of her. She rubbed her clit until she, too, came, this time more slow and less intensely than the first. Adrien sighed as he felt her clench around him. Then, he pulled out gingerly, removing the sealskin condom and tossing it into the garbage bin. He wrapped his arms around Marinette, pulling her to his chest until she was nestled under his chin and cuddling into him, resting on her side.

 

“Adrien.”

 

“Hmm…?”

 

“… I love you.” Adrien grinned crookedly.

 

“I love you, too, Princess. Now sleep.” He brushed aside her sweaty bangs, pressing a kiss gently to her forehead. “Forever begins tomorrow, you know. That’s forever with my bad puns. You’re going to need your rest.”

 

She laughed, an easy smile on her face. Yes, that was true. But she wouldn’t wish it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and please remember to leave feedback below!!! Knowing people are reading my fic really motivates me to write faster!


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